


and summer’s lease hath all too short a date

by ranichi17



Series: Fair Summer Skies [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Kagerou Project
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Angst, Child Death, Child Neglect, Existential Angst, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hospitalization, Illnesses, KagePro AU, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Alternating, POV Third Person, Panic Attacks, Slice of Life, Suicide, Wordcount: 30.000-50.000, being hajime is suffering, the kagepro au absolutely no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-19 10:25:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 34,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11895747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranichi17/pseuds/ranichi17
Summary: Strange things have always happened in Kaniwa City.For a while, though, they’ll remain children, happy andalive.





	1. Coda

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hikarinchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikarinchan/gifts), [m1masr00m](https://archiveofourown.org/users/m1masr00m/gifts).



> Here is an insurmountable amount of garbage. It disgusts me as well. I apologize in advance.
> 
> Anyway, here’s the KagePro AU absolutely no one asked for. I don’t have a valid explanation for this, except that it seemed like a good idea at the time. All blame for this goes to hikarinchan, who gave me the idea even though I only sent the standard August 15 greeting. Saskia is also responsible for this for being a fic enabler even though she knows nothing about KagePro except for the fact that they all die.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinata Hajime and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

_It is easy to forget now, how effervescent and free we all felt that summer. … And so I will try to tell you, while I still remember, how it was then, before everything changed—that final season of the era that roared. — Bright Young Things, Anna Godbersen_

 

August 15th. The height of summer. A perfectly ordinary day.

And yet, as the day drew to a close, so, too, did the normalcy of Hinata Hajime’s life end.

 

The first phone call happened at exactly 4 o’clock in the afternoon. Hajime remembers, because it was the timeslot for Sayaka’s favorite variety show and they were fighting over who gets to use the television.

Sayaka won that round, but only because someone needed to answer the phone ringing from the next room.

Barely ten seconds later, Hajime wished he had never picked it up.

“Hm? What’s wrong, _Nii–san_?” Sayaka asked, sounding concerned.

“Oh, uh…”

_When had he dropped the receiver?_

“Nothing,” Hajime said, hands shaking as he tried to pick up the receiver from the floor.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” assured Hajime as he placed the receiver near his ear again.

“You still there, Hinata?” Kizakura– _sensei_ asked from the other end of the line.

“Yes,” Hajime replied, utterly devoid of emotion.

Finally, after a minute of deafening silence, Hajime spoke again.

“…When?” he said.

_Why?_

“Just a few minutes ago. I’m still here at the hospital.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“I’m still trying to reach his dad. Apparently, he’s out on a business trip or something,” Kizakura– _sensei_ said, muttering something else under his breath. “So. You’re the first person I told. I’ll call Ibuki _–chan_ after you.”

“Thank you, _sensei_ ,” Hajime mumbled, already moving to end the call.

“Oi, Hinata?” Kizakura– _sensei_ asked again.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

Hajime cut off the line.

“Sayaka?” Hajime called out, but not before clearing the lump stuck in his throat. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, trying to sound nonchalant. “I’m going back to my room. Tell me if anyone looks for me.”

 

_“Ah, uhm… you’ve reached Mitarai Ryouta’s phone. I can’t pick it up right now so please just leave a message. Thanks!”_

Click.

_Damn it, Mitarai, pick up the phone._

Hajime lay on his bed, staring at nothing in particular as he waited for the auto redial function to kick in.

Voicemail message again.

Hajime idly wondered why he wasn’t crying.

_Tell me it’s just a joke._

By the twentieth time Hajime got the voicemail message, he was sure he’d throw his phone towards the wall should he touch it.

_What about your party next week? Weren’t you excited to be turning 17?_

Hajime shut his eyes, still absurdly dry, and drifted off to the shrill cries of the cicadas outside his window.

 

The second phone call happened at fifteen minutes to five in the afternoon. Hajime remembers, because when Sayaka woke him up with a sharp rapping on his door, his first impulse was to check his phone.

“ _Nii–san!_ Kizakura– _sensei_ ’s on the phone! Open up already!” Sayaka shouted as she continued to knock on the locked door.

Hajime groaned, pushing himself off the bed. “I’m up! Stop knocking already!”

_What was it this time? Well, it can’t be any worse than his first call, right?_

 

Hajime sighed before speaking. _“Sensei?”_

From the other end of the line, Kizakura– _sensei_ was unusually quiet. “Kid, I don’t know how to tell you this, but Ibuki– _chan_ ’s dead.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was, kid. I’m sorry.”

“I see.”

Hajime hung up and ran away, heedless of Sayaka’s voice calling after him.

 

Only the oncoming train made him stop running. By then, he was too far from their house that Hajime was sure Sayaka wasn’t following him.

_Why is this happening at all?_

The bells made him look up just as the accelerating train zoomed out of Hajime’s eyeshot. Across the tracks, he saw the festival grounds.

 _Oh, that’s right. It’s_ Obon _today._

The vendors were just starting to set up their stalls, yet there were already a few stray tourists wandering around the grounds.  Even from a distance, Hajime could see the towering stack of firewood they were going to set ablaze later.

Hajime wondered why his feet took him here, of all places.

_We were all supposed to go to the festival together._

Hajime turned on his heel, going in the opposite direction.

 

At exactly five o’clock in the afternoon, Hajime reached the school grounds. He remembers, because the incessant clanging of the old bell tower announcing a new hour boomed in his ears.

Hajime approached the grounds hesitantly. The sun was about to set, dyeing the surroundings a bright orange. Everywhere he looked, a different memory from the previous year resurfaced in his mind.

_Why was he here again?_

Hajime looked up towards the setting sun instead, overwhelmed and wishing he could forget.

If only he knew that the heat haze was not done with him.

_“Nanami!”_

Nanami sat precariously on the school rooftop’s ledge, already leaning towards the ground.

_Please don’t fall please don’t fall please don’t fall —_

Nanami turned her head, hearing Hajime’s voice.

_He won’t reach her in time._

Nanami Chiaki smiled, falling.

Hajime screamed.

Around him, the cicadas wailed alongside the static noise of the speakers.

_“Yuuyake koyake…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, Kizakura’s Kenjirou, Hinata is Shintaro, Chiaki is Ayano, Sayaka is Momo, Ibuki is Takane, and Ryouta is Haruka. Again, all blame for this is on hikarinchan.
> 
> Updates on IAKW will resume shortly, I only have two scenes done for now. In my defense, I have 10 WIPs at the moment. I guess that's also something to look forward to?


	2. Da Capo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer, one year ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is another insurmountable pile of garbage, take it already.

“ _Ah!_ Ibuki is late!”

Ibuki’s running as fast as she can through the crowded hallway. If she hadn’t already been chewing on a piece of toast in her mouth, she’d definitely scream.

Mou, _why didn’t Ryouta–chan wait for her?_

Ibuki’s eyes widened as she skidded to a sudden stop, dodging the humungous sheet of plywood being carried by two upperclassmen that suddenly showed up in her path.

_That was close._

 

After almost bumping into a lot more students carrying even weirder stuff than that plywood (seriously, what was up with that?), Ibuki finally rounded down a corridor and got to their classroom.

Well, classroom was a relative term. In reality, what Ibuki’s class referred to as their classroom was actually just a converted storage room. Something about running out of classrooms in the school building.

Ibuki sent the door flying. Not that she meant to, but it happened anyway. Bracing herself for the lecture she knows she’ll receive from Kizakura– _sensei_ , Ibuki entered the classroom.

Only to find the other two occupants of the room fast asleep.

_Eh?_

Kizakura– _sensei_ was snoring on the teacher’s table, saliva dribbling down the corner of his mouth and pooling on the table.

Meanwhile, sleeping on the only other desk aside from her own assigned one, his head resting next to an unfinished piece on his sketchpad, was her next–door neighbor Mitarai Ryouta.

Obviously class wasn’t going to start anytime soon.

Ibuki slammed the door behind her. They didn’t even stir.

_Well, it can’t be helped. Desperate times call for desperate measures._

_“Oi, what’s happening here?”_ Ibuki screeched at the top of her lungs.

Kizakura­– _sensei_ cracked open an eyelid and stared up blearily at Ibuki for a full second before straightening up abruptly.

“Yo, Ibuki– _chan_!” Kizakura– _sensei_ greeted with a wave, his words slurring.

_Is he seriously hung over again?_

“Ah, Ibuki– _chan_ …” Kizakura– _sensei_ said, giving her a weird look.

“What?”

Kizakura– _sensei_ continued to give that weird look, until she turned to where he was actually looking.

_Ah._

Ryouta– _chan_ was still sleeping.

Ibuki sneaked up behind Ryouta– _chan_ ’s sleeping form, knowing that Kizakura– _sensei_ was suppressing a laugh at their expense.

“Good morning, Ryouta– _chan_ ,” Ibuki said with all the cheerfulness she could muster right in front of Ryouta’s face. It was probably too close for Ryouta– _chan_ ’s comfort, but oh well.

Ryouta– _chan_ ’s eyes finally fluttered open at that, blearily looking at Ibuki.

“Morning, Ibuki,” Ryouta– _chan_ yawned with a smile. “I thought you weren’t going to class today?”

Ibuki had her hands on her hips as she scooted away from Ryouta. “Is that why Ryouta– _chan_ didn’t wait for Ibuki today?”

Ryouta– _chan_ stretched out his arms, yawning again. “Your parents said you were still sleeping, so I assumed you weren’t coming today.”

“Why would Ryouta– _chan_ think that?” Ibuki asked, tilting her head to the side.

“Did you forget we don’t have regular classes for two weeks because of the school festival?”

 _“What?”_ Ibuki yelled.

Ryouta– _chan_ shrugged. “I knew it.”

Come to think of it, was that the reason why everyone she met in the hall was carrying lots of weird stuff? Was the festival really next week already?

Kizakura– _sensei_ cleared his throat, shutting them both up as they turned to look at him.

“Settle down, you two. Since Ibuki– _chan_ ’s here already, we should probably start homeroom,” Kizakura– _sensei_ said as he shuffled the papers on his table.

“It’s almost the end of first period…” Ibuki muttered under her breath as she sat down.

Kizakura– _sensei_ pretended not to hear her as continued. “Let’s see… What was I going to discuss for homeroom again? Oh, right. So what do you guys want to do for the festival?”

 _“What?”_ Ibuki and Ryouta– _chan_ said at the same time.

Ryouta– _chan_ elaborated. “Kizakura– _sensei_ , didn’t you say we weren’t required to join the festival last week?”

Kizakura– _sensei_ rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Well, _yeah_ , but then the headmaster asked me what our class is doing for the festival and I ended up blurting out we’re preparing a surprise booth, so…”

Ibuki groaned. “You can’t just say that when we only have less than a week before the festival, _sensei_.”

“Can we have an arcade booth? None of the other classes are doing that yet,” Ryouta– _chan_ asked at the same time.

“See? Mitarai– _kun_ ’s agreeing with me,” Kizakura– _sensei_ said. “Work with us here, Ibuki– _chan_.”

“Which is weird, since Ryouta– _chan_ didn’t say anything last week when we were last talking about this,” Ibuki pointed out.

Ryouta– _chan_ shrugged. “Yeah, but if I suddenly collapsed while we’re making our booth, I’ll just be a bother, right? So when you guys didn’t want a booth last week, I just ended up not pushing for it.”

Oh, right. _That._ Sometimes Ibuki tended to forget her best friend was sick. Ryouta– _chan_ didn’t help either, since he tended to act like nothing was wrong.

“Is our budget even enough for an arcade booth?” Ibuki asked.

Kizakura– _sensei_ avoided Ibuki’s stare, and instead eyed a specimen at the corner of the room.

Wait a minute.

Was that specimen already there last week?

 _“Sensei,”_ Ibuki drawled. “Did you spend our class budget on another specimen?”

Ibuki could see droplets of sweat form on Kizakura– _sensei_ ’s forehead as she asked the question that only multiplied as both she and Ryouta– _chan_ continued to look at him expectantly.

 _“Ah, it’s not my fault!”_ Kizakura– _sensei_ screamed. “It went on sale and I couldn’t help myself when we decided we’re not making a booth!”

“So are we still making an arcade booth?” Ryouta– _chan_ asked.

“How are we going to do that we just the three of us?” Ibuki shot back. “And we don’t even have a budget to buy prizes anymore thanks to Kizakura– _sensei_. Unless…” Ibuki turned to look at the specimen again.

“I–Ibuki– _chan_ , why are you looking at the specimen like that?” Kizakura– _sensei_ asked nervously.

Ibuki smiled.

Kizakura– _sensei_ screamed again.

 

Five class periods’ worth of planning later, they settled on a rhythm game booth with the specimen as a prize. An entire arcade was just not possible, after all. Or at least Kizakura– _sensei_ assured them he could code a rhythm game within the time they had left for the festival. Ryouta– _chan_ was in charge of drawing the backgrounds for the game, and Ibuki herself was supposed to test the game when it was finished.

That afternoon, Ibuki and Ryouta– _chan_ walked home together as always, their houses being just across from each other. The weather was still too hot even though it was already late afternoon, the setting sun turning the sky a vivid red and promising another humid weather for tomorrow. Ibuki couldn’t wait to get home and have a shower to wash off all the sweat sticking to her.

Beside her, Ryouta– _chan_ looked utterly drained of energy. More than once, they had to pause on walking so Ryouta– _chan_ could catch his breath.

“ _Nee,_ Ryouta– _chan_ , are you sick?” Ibuki asked as they got to their street.

“Ah?” Ryouta– _chan_ breathed out, turning to look at her with unfocused eyes. “No, it’s… it’s just the weather. Don’t worry about it.”

“If you say so…” Ibuki trailed off.

“ _Nee,_ _oji–san_ ’s on a business trip again, right?” Ibuki asked, stopping short of entering her house’s gate, suddenly remembering. “Are you coming for dinner later?”

“Hm? Yeah, I will,” Ryouta– _chan_ said, who was already inside his own gate and in the process of closing it. “See you later, I think.”

Ibuki nodded. “Yeah, see you later!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only reason this one’s getting updated ahead of schedule is that I accidentally brought the wrong notebook with me last week. Whoops.
> 
> Anyway, I forgot to explain “Yuuyake koyake…” last week. It's a song usually played over a town’s loudspeakers around 5 in the afternoon every day as a signal that the school day’s already over. Approximately, it means “the red sunset sky, the after sunset orange sky…”
> 
> See you guys whenever


	3. Mesto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late night phone calls and tears that no one ever sees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the angst train.

Ryouta awoke to the sound of his phone ringing. The first thing he noticed as he opened his eyes was that the caller id was Ibuki’s. The second thing was that it was already sometime in the middle of the night.

_Oh no._

Ryouta sat up on the bed and accepted the call with a sigh, placing some distance between his ear and the receiver.

 _“Ryouta–_ chan _!”_ Ibuki’s voice blared out through the phone’s speakers, still perfectly audible to Ryouta despite the distance. “Why didn’t you show up for dinner? You weren’t answering Ibuki’s calls, either, and Ibuki was already going to send _Tou–chan_ to break down your door already,” she babbled on worriedly without pausing for breath. Ryouta wondered how she does it.

“I’m fine, Ibuki. I fell asleep, I’m sorry,” Ryouta replied, voice still thick with exhaustion, and placed his phone next to his ear.

“You _never_ sleep,” Ibuki whined from her end of the line. Ryouta could almost see her sullen pout.

“Yes, I _do_ ,” Ryouta said, rolling his eyes. “You just never see it.”

“No, you _don’t_ ,” Ibuki retorted. “And Ibuki’s coming over there.”

“What, _now?_ Why?” Ryouta asked.

“Dinner, remember?” Ibuki said. “ _Kaa–chan_ saved some for you.”

 _“Oh,”_ Ryouta sighed, leaning against the headboard. “You don’t… you don’t have to, I still have some food stocked around here.”

That made Ibuki snort. “You don’t eat unless someone forces you to.”

“I will, I will,” Ryouta replied automatically. “And you shouldn’t really go outside this late, even if it’s only across the street.”

Ibuki hummed. “Ryouta– _chan_ should take care of himself more. Night–night.”

“I know. Night, Ibuki,” Ryouta said with a tired smile, ending the call.

Ryouta sighed, curling himself up on the bed, his phone discarded to the side. For a long time, the only sound that could be heard in the room was the buzzing of cicadas outside the window. To Ryouta’s ears, it sounded as if they were constantly screaming that they’re alive. It was irrational, he knew that, but it still felt like the cicadas were mocking him.

Ryouta’s shaking, tugging at the fabric of his trousers as he desperately tried to recall what happened that afternoon. The last thing he remembered was feeling tired, so tired that even making it to his room was a chore.

 _Yeah, maybe I just fell asleep,_ Ryouta thought, choking back the panic rising in his chest that made his heart beat even faster than it already did when he woke up to Ibuki’s phone call.

_But he’s never gone to sleep without taking off his contacts before._

Ryouta curled himself up tighter, hugging his knees too close to his chest that it felt harder to breathe.

_This can’t… this can’t be happening! Please, not yet!_

The tears fell, finally, cascading out of him despite his best efforts, and leaving him gasping for air with each sob that wracked through him.

_If he asked for help now, they’d think he’s just being a bother._

Ryouta continued to cry until he felt quite numb, no longer caring about how his tears soaked through his trouser knees.

 

At one in the morning, the only light visible in the house was a desk lamp, Ryouta choosing to work on the project than go back to sleep, afraid of that oblivion. The problem was, he _can’t_ get it right. For the past two hours, all he’s done was to sketch a background only to realize how much of a garbage it looked like, leading him to rub an eraser over each disgusting stroke hard enough to rip the page. The paper bin at his feet was already overflowing.

The phone began to ring again. This time it was Kizakura– _sensei_ who was calling. Ryouta hesitated on taking the call, thinking that if he didn’t answer it, Kizakura– _sensei_ would just assume that he was already sleeping. But the phone continued to ring, and Ryouta had no choice but to pick it up, not wanting his teacher to worry.

“Hello?” Ryouta said, wincing at how hoarse his voice sounded.

“I _knew_ you were awake,” Kizakura– _sensei_ said, as carefree as ever. “Or did I wake you up? Sorry for calling so late.”

Ryouta cleared his throat before speaking, wanting to get rid of some of the hoarseness in his voice. “Oh, uh… it’s fine, _sensei_. I wasn’t sleeping. So what’s this about?”

“Ah, nothing, nothing,” Kizakura– _sensei_ said. “Ibuki– _chan_ sounded rattled on the phone a few hours ago, though. Did something happen?”

“I just missed dinner, that’s all…” Ryouta muttered. “Sorry I made both of you worry.”

 _“Uh–huh.”_ Kizakura– _sensei_ ’s tone sounded like he didn’t believe it. “And yet you’re working this late again. I hope you’re not pushing yourself too hard, Mitarai– _kun_.”

“I’m not, _sensei_. In fact, I’m barely expending effort on this at all,” Ryouta said, affecting a tone of false cheerfulness.

“ _Still_ , there’s no need to wreck your health over this. I want both of you to enjoy the festival, so you should rest whenever y—”

“Don’t worry about it, _sensei_ ,” Ryouta said, cutting Kizakura– _sensei_ off. “I’ve only got one year left, anyway, so I really want to finish this.”

Just like that, the truth slipped out.

The deafening silence from the other end of the line frightened Ryouta.

Until Kizakura– _sensei_ sighed. “I guess something _did_ happen tonight. What was it?”

“…I don’t know.”

“You passed out, didn’t you?” Kizakura– _sensei_ asked, sounding concerned. “For how long?”

“…Three hours,” Ryouta muttered.

Kizakura– _sensei_ sputtered. “That doesn’t sound good. Want me to send you an ambulance?”

“’M fine now, _sensei_ , you don’t have to,” Ryouta said, not wanting to hassle his teacher any longer.

“Get that checked as soon as you can, kid. And you really _should_ sleep, even if it’s the weekend tomorrow.”

“I will, _sensei_ ,” Ryouta conceded. “I’m just gonna finish this one sketch up.”

“Doing your best, huh?” Kizakura– _sensei_ asked in a tone that Ryouta was sure he was flashing his usual cocky grin at the other end of the line.

Ryouta smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jin hurt me with _over the dimension_ , so I guess this is me sharing that pain with you.


	4. Strepitoso

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ryouta finds out why Kizakura– _sensei_ never invites students over to his house

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I'm actually sticking to a schedule _and_ an outline for once.

“I’m not sure I can finish this, Ibuki,” Ryouta said, gesturing at the pile of food on his plate.

Ibuki pouted. “But Ryouta– _chan_ didn’t eat anything last night.”

“Yes, I _did_ ,” Ryouta whined.

Ibuki kept up her pout. Ryouta was sure even without looking up that _her_ parents were snickering across the table, too.

“Okay, maybe I didn’t,” Ryouta admitted with a sigh. “But there’s _still_ so much on my plate. So are you going to help us with the game?”

Ibuki abruptly stopped staring at him and chewed on a piece of _shishamo_ instead.

“Ibuki…”

“What?” Ibuki asked, her mouth still half full. “Ibuki doesn’t know how to help!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Ryouta laughed nervously, still staring forlornly at his plate. “By the way, I’m gonna sleep over at Kizakura– _sensei_ ’s until tomorrow so we can cram the game this weekend.”

“You’re sure you’ll be fine there alone, Ryouta?” Ibuki’s mother asked.

“I’ll be fine, _oba–san_ ,” Ryouta answered with a smile. “Kizakura– _sensei_ ’s a responsible adult despite what he looks like.”

Ibuki’s mother raised an eyebrow. “Still, be careful. And call us when you get there and if you need anything. When is your father even coming back, anyway?”

Ryouta shrugged. “He didn’t say. But he did tell me he’s gonna call when he can.”

“Well,” Ibuki’s mother said, taking in a deep breath. “He’d better.”

 

Ryouta walked along a dusty sidewalk, lugging along a heavy backpack underneath the glaring sun. The street he was on was pretty quiet, save for the ever–present chirping of cicadas. In fact, there was barely anyone outside, likely because they were all avoiding the heat by staying indoors. Ryouta would have gladly done that himself if only they didn’t need to finish making the game in three days. Since Ryouta’s tablet has been busted for a while now (he really needed to save up for a replacement) and Kizakura– _sensei_ had a scanner and immediately needed to input the backgrounds Ryouta made into the game’s coding anyway, it only made sense for them to just work on everything in his house over the weekend.

The only problem was, Ryouta’s been walking for ten minutes straight without finding any of the landmarks Kizakura– _sensei_ described last night. Did he make a wrong turn somewhere? But the street signs told him he was walking in the right street, so what was going on?

After walking for another ten minutes, running out of breath more than once as the knot in his stomach grew with each passing moment, Ryouta finally found it.

Kizakura– _sensei_ had only ever described the place to him, never inviting either Ryouta or Ibuki over before now, but as his house came into full view, there was no mistaking it. The house stood out amongst its neighbors, being the only one made with red bricks and a wing of it burned down. Ryouta wondered what happened there, but decided against asking about it last night when he noticed how sad Kizakura– _sensei_ sounded while describing it.

As Ryouta rang the doorbell, he noticed something off about the nameplate on the gate. There was enough space on it that Ryouta was sure there used to be another name on it besides the gilded characters that made up Kizakura– _sensei_ ’s name. It couldn’t just be the _furigana_ either, the space was too large for that. And besides, who uses _furigana_ on nameplates?

Ryouta’s eyes lingered once again on the burned down wing of Kizakura– _sensei_ ’s house while waiting for someone to answer the door. To his surprise, there’s a girl standing there now, her lavender braids swaying along with the breeze.

 _How long has she been there? Is she Kizakura–_ sensei _’s daughter?_

“E–Excuse me?” Ryouta called out to the girl, tripping over his words. “Could you please let me in? I’m Kizakura– _sensei_ ’s student.”

The girl turned to him with wide purple eyes and let out a startled gasp. Ryouta was about to apologize for scaring her when she just… _disappeared_.

_But that doesn’t make sense, people don’t just disappear into thin air._

Ryouta blinked again. There was no trace that the girl he saw had ever been there.

_Was he just seeing things?_

A chill went down Ryouta’s spine as he tried to forget about what he saw. Then his phone began to ring, almost making him scream.

It was just a text from Kizakura– _sensei_ , and Ryouta sighed in relief, trying to calm down his racing heart.

“Yo, Mitarai– _kun_! Sorry about my daughter, she’s told me what happened. Go right in, the door’s open.”

 _Huh, so that really_ was _his daughter. So what was up with that?_

 

Kizakura– _sensei_ ’s house felt a lot darker than it looked from outside. The curtains were blocking the sunlight from entering the living room and the lights weren’t switched on either. In fact, the longer Ryouta waited for someone to show up in the living room, the more he realized that the place felt like barely anyone lived there. The shelves at the side of the room were overflowing with books, yet they looked as if they haven’t been dusted in a long time. In the center of the shelves was a framed photograph. Ryouta guessed it was Kizakura– _sensei_ ’s family in the photo. He wondered what the rest of them were like, but staring at the photo felt like he was intruding on their lives so he didn’t.

A sudden rustling from one of the rooms caught Ryouta’s attention. He ignored it at first, thinking maybe it was just Kizakura– _sensei_ ’s children making the noise, but then it just wouldn’t stop.

_This is exactly how people die in those horror movies that Ibuki keeps on watching._

Shoving the thought aside, Ryouta got up from the sofa and decided to investigate the noise.

 

The noise turned out to be coming from the library, but by the time Ryouta got there, it had already stopped.

_What was up with this house?_

The library _was_ nice, though, and Ryouta couldn’t really help but ogle the place. It was easily larger than their own school’s library and there was no shelf left unfilled by a book. Even from where he was standing, Ryouta could see so many obscure hard bounds lining up the shelves alongside stitched–up sheaves of loose–leaf, some of them in languages he can’t understand. As he wandered around the library, Ryouta wondered who the books belonged to. Kizakura– _sensei_ didn’t seem like the type to be an avid reader, but then again, neither he nor Ibuki knew until yesterday that Kizakura– _sensei_ knew how to code games.

Ryouta was running his fingers along the spine of a book that caught his eyes when the door suddenly slammed shut, plunging the entire library into darkness.

_It couldn’t have been the wind, there aren’t any windows._

_Gods, is he_ really _in a horror movie?_

Ryouta screeched as he tried opening the door, but there was no use. Whatever _thing_ slammed the door had also locked it. At least he hoped someone would have to hear him eventually.

And when Ryouta finally heard footsteps approaching, he knew that someone did.

The door unlocked with a click and swung open at around the same time Ryouta jumped out of the doorway, revealing a girl in her pajamas who looked very different from the one he saw outside a while ago, from her short, pink hair to her height. Even though she was currently rubbing her eyes, Ryouta could feel her glaring at him.

“ _Mou,_ Nagito, it’s too early for this. And _Oyaji_ said we shouldn’t go in the…” she trailed off as she finally looked at Ryouta. “Uh, Nagito?”

“Nagito?” Ryouta echoed, thoroughly confused.

“You’re not Nagito, are you?” she asked.

“N–No?” Ryouta managed to stutter out.

_Who was this Nagito, anyway?_

_“Eh?!”_ The girl shrieked, her face reddening. “I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else!” she said hurriedly, bowing in apology as she did. “You’re _Oyaji_ ’s student, right? I was supposed to meet you at the door this morning, but my siblings messed with my alarm to play a prank on you.”

 _How many children does Kizakura–_ sensei _even have?_

Ryouta laughed nervously. “Don’t worry about it. Uhm, my name’s Mitarai Ryouta.”

“I’m Nanami Chiaki. Pleased to meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is 2.30 am and nothing makes sense.


	5. Capriccioso

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things keep slipping out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I just end up revealing the AU's MekaDan members in this chapter? Yes, yes I did.

“I had no idea Kizakura– _sensei_ has so many children,” Ryouta said as Nanami– _san_ brought him to a guest room. “So were your siblings really just pranking me and not… _ah, forget I said that, I’m sorry!_ ” he screeched before he could say the rest of it, shaking his head. It _was_ rude to imply someone’s house was haunted, after all.

Nanami– _san_ still giggled, however. She had already changed out of her pajamas and into a character hoodie before taking him to the guest room. “Yeah, this house _does_ look like it’s haunted, doesn’t it? We’re no good at cleaning it unlike Chi—” She blinked. “I’m sorry my siblings scared you. _Oyaji_ already told them not to last night. They’re not usually like this, I don’t know what happened.”

“Ah, n–no,” Ryouta waved his hands in front of his face. “I should be the one apologizing for barging in like this. Uh… where did that thing go? _Ah,_ there it is!” he exclaimed, producing a box from his backpack that he then handed to Nanami– _san_. “Please accept this, it’s the least I can give you for putting up with me.”

“Eh?” Nanami– _san_ turned her eyes towards the box. “But this is from that expensive bakery in town! I can’t possibly—”

“Please?” Ryouta insisted. “Or if you want, could you give this to your sister instead and tell her I’m sorry? I think I might have scared her a while ago.”

“Kyouko– _chan_? She went out of her room?” Nanami– _san_ asked.

“Y–Yeah,” Ryouta nodded. “She was staring out at that burnt side of your house but she disappeared when I tried calling her. Sorry.”

“Ah, no, that makes sense,” Nanami– _san_ shook her head, finally accepting the box. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll tell her. Oh, are you going to be fine here alone for a bit? I have to make lunch.”

“Ah, y–yeah. Please take your time,” Ryouta said.

“I’m off, then. I’ll be bringing you some lunch, too,” said Nanami– _san_ with a smile as she left the room.

 

Only when he was completely alone did Ryouta finally allow himself to look around. The room was simply furnished, with a mattress bed instead of a _futon_ like he expected and a bedside table with a desk lamp on it. The scanner was already set up on a folding table on one side of the room. Beside it was an old model of a drawing tablet. Not the type Ryouta’s used to, but he can work with it.

Ryouta was leaning on the edge of the bed, out of breath again after unpacking his things and hooking up his laptop to the rest of the makeshift workstation, when someone knocked on the door.

It was Nanami– _san_ , smiling at him again though something felt off about it. She was empty–handed, so it probably wasn’t about lunch.

“A–Ah, Nanami– _san_? Did you forget something?” Ryouta asked.

“Not really,” Nanami– _san_ said in a sing–song voice. “I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh, uh, what is it?”

Nanami– _san_ ’s eyes narrowed as she focused them on Ryouta. “You weren’t thinking anything _lewd_ about me just now, weren’t you?”

Ryouta could feel his cheeks burning and turning into a deep shade of crimson as he tried to speak. _Where did that question even come from?_ “W–What are you talking about, Nanami– _san_?”

“You _were_ , weren’t you?” Nanami– _san_ asked again, by this time already staring daggers at Ryouta. “You mean are all the same anyway!”

What’s with the sudden change of her mood, anyway? And judging by how she’s reacting, she probably won’t believe him even if Ryouta tried to deny her accusations now.

Ryouta sighed. What did he ever do to deserve this? “Uhm, s–so… what do I do to make it up to you?”

That seemed to do the trick. Nanami– _san_ stopped abruptly in the middle of another rant to stare at Ryouta instead.

“Promise me you’ll never have lewd thoughts of me again,” Nanami– _san_ said flatly.

“ _Huh?!_ Ah…”

“Just do it!”

 _“A–Ah! O–Okay, I promise!”_ Ryouta yelped.

“That’s a promise, okay?” Nanami– _san_ said, beaming again, humming as she left the room.

 _What was_ that _all about?_ Ryouta thought as he sat back down on the edge of the bed.

But then _another_ knock came on the door, making Ryouta jump.

“Uh, excuse me.”

It was Nanami– _san_ again.

Ryouta tensed up, trying to prepare himself for whatever it was that Nanami– _san_ had to say this time, but she just stared blankly at him as if nothing had happened.

“Is something wrong?” Nanami– _san_ asked.

“N–Nothing! Of course not!” Ryouta said, laughing nervously.

“Well, okay. Sorry for the wait, I brought lunch,” Nanami– _san_ announced, and sure enough, she was carrying a tray with covered bowls on it. “I hope you like _nikujaga_ ,” she said as she uncovered one of the bowls.

 _Oh, good, she’s not gonna snap again._ Ryouta thought as he sighed in relief, accepting the offered food.

 _Hey, wait a minute,_ nikujaga _isn’t that easy to cook. But this doesn’t look like it was store–bought either._

Ryouta gulped. “Uh, N–Nanami– _san_ , c–can I ask you something?”

“Hm? What is it?” Nanami– _san_ said, still sounding oblivious.

“W–Were you in the kitchen this whole time?” Ryouta asked, unable to stop his voice from quivering.

Nanami– _san_ nodded. “Yeah, I was. It took a bit too long to finish cooking because _someone_ didn’t take the meat out of the freezer. Why?”

“A–Ah…” Ryouta started to laugh nervously again. “Uhm… this might sound weird, but do you have a twin?”

It was Nanami– _san_ ’s turn to blush. _“Eh?!”_ she shrieked. “D–Did someone go here while I was in the kitchen? What did she say?”

“A–Ah, uhm… please don’t be too hard on her,” Ryouta mumbled, fidgeting under Nanami– _san_ ’s gaze.

“What did she say?” Nanami– _san_ pressed on, her voice dropping.

“A–Ah, s–she made me promise never to have lewd thoughts ever again, I’m sorry, please don’t get mad,” Ryouta said, rushing through his words that he was left panting when he was done.

“I see…” Nanami– _san_ nodded. “I’ll try to hold back on her, don’t worry,” she promised as she left.

Ryouta blinked at the tray. So it was just a twin after all.

 

As he tried to enjoy the thankfully still–warm _nikujaga_ , Ryouta wondered why the replies to Nanami– _san_ ’s scolding downstairs sounded like they came from a boy.

 

Ryouta didn’t see much of Nanami– _san_ or her siblings after that. Though that was probably because he was locked up in the study with Kizakura– _sensei_ all day as they worked on the game. The next time he did see her was when Nanami– _san_ brought dinner for them.

At the end of the day, they managed to finish at least half of the game. Well, Kizakura– _sensei_ did. Ryouta only helped with the backgrounds and not much else. It made him feel guilty for suggesting the arcade theme every time Kizakura– _sensei_ groaned in frustration whenever he hit a snag in the code.

When it turned ten o’clock, Kizakura– _sensei_ shuffled Ryouta off to bed, knowing full well that Ryouta didn’t actually sleep the night before. Ryouta didn’t protest as he got pushed out of the door, feeling too exhausted himself. This time, Ryouta carefully counted the rooms just so he won’t end up in the wrong one, in case Nanami– _san_ ’s siblings decided to prank him again. Almost as soon as he reached his bed for the night, Ryouta fell into a dreamless sleep.

It didn’t last though. No, of course not. Why was he still surprised he woke up unable to breathe? This happens almost every night. He’d have to get used to it eventually.

Ryouta sat up sluggishly, clutching at his chest as he tried to take in deep breaths. Was it this bad before? He frowned, reaching for the nitrate. Maybe he should just start sleeping sitting up. Better than disturbing Kizakura– _sensei_ in his work by asking for more pillows.

 

Once Ryouta felt sure he could stand up, he sneaked out of the room to get a glass of water, hoping that no one will notice.

But of course, it was just his luck that Kizakura– _sensei_ was in the kitchen when he got there, eating ice cream on the countertop straight from the tub with a messy–haired boy Ryouta assumed was Kizakura– _sensei_ ’s son. Ryouta was about to turn back, but Kizakura– _sensei_ was already waving at him to come and join them.

“Can’t sleep, huh?” Kizakura– _sensei_ asked, the ice cream spoon still in his mouth.

“I tried,” Ryouta sighed. “I’m just gonna some water, I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

“Nah, you didn’t,” Kizakura– _sensei_ said, jumping off the counter. “We’re just eating ice cream after Mako– _chan_ here —” Kizakura– _sensei_ patted his son on the back, making the poor kid blush. “— had a nightmare. So, the usual.”

“It’s Naegi Makoto,” the boy mumbled, keeping his eyes glued to the ground. “Hi.”

“Uhm, Mitarai Ryouta. Nice to meet you,” Ryouta said, forcing a smile.

“Well,” Kizakura– _sensei_ said with a yawn as he stretched his arms. “You boys gonna be fine alone for a bit? I have to check if the little shit’s finally rendered. Uh, don’t tell your sisters I said that word, Mako– _chan._ ”

“We’ll be fine, _Oyaji_. And I won’t tell,” Naegi– _san_ promised.

“Oh, yeah,” Kizakura– _sensei_ suddenly said as he paused at the doorway. “I don’t think Mitarai– _kun_ ’s allowed to have chocolate, so don’t give him any, Mako– _chan_. Sorry, kid,” he apologized, turning towards Ryouta.

Ryouta shook his head. “It’s fine, _sensei_. I wasn’t hungry, anyway.”

Kizakura– _sensei_ waved as he left. “See you in five minutes, then. Unless you’re going to sleep.”

 

Standing in the kitchen felt awkward when Kizakura– _sensei_ finally disappeared from sight and Naegi– _san_ returned the ice cream tub to the freezer without a sound. Ryouta was getting ready to step out of the kitchen with his glass of water when Naegi– _san_ finally broke the ice.

“So what’s your class booth about, Mitarai– _san_?” Naegi– _san_ asked, still not quite looking at Ryouta.

“Ah, uhm, it’s an arcade booth,” Ryouta said, startled by the sudden question. “Though we’re really just making a rhythm game. Y–You should come and visit.”

“Oh, that sounds fun,” Naegi– _san_ exclaimed. “ _Nee–chan_ ’s class is doing a maid café.”

“Wait, Nanami– _san_ goes to Hope’s Peak?” Ryouta asked, thoroughly surprised. He never saw her around school, so he just assumed she went to a different one.

“Yup. You never noticed?” Naegi– _san_ said, smiling. “I can’t go to the festival, though, I’ve got something to do on that day, but the other two might show up.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m actually applying for a part–time job that day so…” Naegi– _san_ trailed off, shaking his head. “Everyone’s been trying their best since Papa and Chisa– _neechan_ died and I have to help out somehow.”

_Wait, what did he just say?_

Naegi– _san_ seemed to realize what Ryouta’s silence meant. “ _Oyaji_ never told you, huh?”

Ryouta nodded.

Naegi– _san_ sighed as if he saw it coming. “Yeah, that’s just like him. He doesn’t really like letting people see him sad. We’ve never even seen him cry about it.”

So was all that cheerfulness just an act?

Ryouta remembered his conversation with Kizakura– _sensei_ last night. Maybe he shouldn’t have admitted _that_ and added to Kizakura– _sensei_ ’s problems. “…I guess we’re a handful for him, huh.”

“Nope,” Naegi– _san_ said, beaming just like his sister. “He really likes teaching your class, Mitarai– _san_. He even called you guys his pride and joy when he was drunk once.”

Ryouta blushed, attempting to change the topic. “Oh, uhm… i–it’s getting pretty late. You should sleep.”

“Huh?” Naegi– _san_ said, looking up at the wall clock. “Oh, yeah. You should sleep, too, Mitarai– _san_.”

Ryouta nodded. “I will. Good luck at the job interview.”

Naegi– _san_ hummed. “Good luck at the —”

Naegi– _san_ suddenly stopped, staring wide–eyed at Ryouta.

Ryouta squirmed beneath it. “Naegi– _san_ …?”

At the same time, Kizakura– _sensei_ showed back up at the kitchen doorway. “Mako– _chan_?” he called out.

Naegi– _san_ blinked, breaking the eye contact. “Uh, sorry. Good luck at the school festival,” he said as he made his way to Kizakura– _sensei_ ’s side. The look he was now giving Ryouta felt too melancholy.

Ryouta forced himself to smile as he made his way back upstairs.

 

There were new extra pillows piled up on the bed when Ryouta got back to his room. So Kizakura– _sensei_ figured it out, then.

He still couldn’t sleep, even with the pillows. What was Kizakura– _sensei_ ’s family like, before? And all those losses, too.

If only Ryouta could help his teacher the same way he did for them.

_If only he wasn’t so useless._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably stop uploading chapters at 2 am.


	6. Incalzando

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out Ibuki can only hide a secret for so long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no Ibuki, but she's back, guys. Along with a few other cameos.

“That’s the _seventh_ time in a row you’ve played that song, Ibuki,” Ryouta– _chan_ complained. Ibuki saw him cover his ears with his hands from the reflection on the computer monitor.

“I _like_ it,” Ibuki whined, turning away from the screen displaying yet another perfect score to pout at Ryouta– _chan_.

Ryouta– _chan_ glared at her. “I _know_ , but let me _sleep_.”

“You can always go to sleep and let me test the game alone, you know,” Ibuki pointed out.

“And you realize you’re the only person in the world who falls asleep to heavy metal, right? I don’t even know why Kizakura– _sensei_ added that song there,” Ryouta– _chan_ said as he tried to suppress a yawn.

Ibuki directed his attention to Kizakura– _sensei_ , who was snoring loudly on his own desk.

“…Oh,” Ryouta– _chan_ breathed out. “That doesn’t count, though. Kizakura– _sensei_ only slept three hours last night to finish the game.”

“Well, how long did _you_ sleep?”

“Didn’t sleep.”

Ibuki groaned. “Just borrow my headphones already and go to sleep.”

“These ones?” Ryouta– _chan_ said, fishing out Ibuki’s noise–cancelling headphones from the front pocket of her bag. “Wait, these are new. What happened to the old ones?”

“Broke them a few months ago,” Ibuki shrugged. “You only noticed just now?”

Ryouta– _chan_ yawned as he put on the headphones. “Hospital, remember? Wake me up when you’re finally done.”

“Yeah, yeah, just please sleep,” Ibuki said, turning her attention back to the game.

When she was sure Ryouta– _chan_ was finally asleep, she looked at him again, worriedly this time. Why was he always like this, talking about his illness so flippantly?

 

The school festival was finally here.

The contents of their classroom were all shifted to the side, except for their desks which had a pair of monitors on top of them already displaying the home screen of the game Kizakura– _sensei_ made.

The classroom itself was shrouded in darkness, the only light in the room being the one released by the monitors, as Ibuki and Ryouta– _chan_ taped up black construction paper on the windows that morning to prevent the sunlight from getting in, and on them were illustrations Ryouta– _chan_ drew with silver marker the night before.

Ibuki, for her part, had been practicing with the game all day yesterday until she fell asleep.

Right now, she was trying her hardest to beat their extremely rude first customer.

_Just two more tiles and…_

FULL COMBO

 _“Yes!”_ Ibuki cheered as her screen displayed her perfect score.

Beside her, her opponent groaned. When Ibuki took a quick look at her opponent’s screen, it showed her that her opponent missed the last two tiles and got a bad hit on three others. Which means Ibuki won.

“Well, that’s the end of the game,” Ibuki said, still grinning. “Thanks for visiting our booth!”

“But that’s impossible! This guy got to the semifinals of last spring’s rhythm festival! Are you sure you’re not cheating?” her opponent’s companion protested.

“Drop it, Keiichi. She won fair and square,” Ibuki’s opponent said. “This girl has some serious skills.”

“A–Ah, no, it’s just luck,” Ibuki said nervously, waving off the compliment. “And a lot of practice.”

_This is bad. What if they realize who she was?_

“No, those skills are from a hardened gamer. Tell me, who are you really?” Ibuki’s opponent asked, looking directly at her still–grinning face illuminated by the glare of the screen.

When realization dawned on her opponent’s face, Ibuki knew she had made a terrible mistake.

 _“Dancing Flash Miki?!”_ Ibuki’s opponent exclaimed.

_Oh shit._

_Yep, Ibuki messed up big time._

Didn’t this guy’s friend mention he got to the semifinals of the rhythm festival? If that wasn’t a lie, then he would have seen Ibuki at the festival venue.

Ibuki won second place for the festival that spring, her technique ending up being dubbed as the legend of the dancing flash because of how easily she left the other competitors in the dust.

The bad part was that on the day of the finals, Ibuki misplaced her mask so her face ended up being seen by everyone there. Back then, Ibuki wasn’t really worried about it because the rhythm festival wasn’t televised or anything, anyway.

How could she have known this would happen?

 _“A–Ah! T–That’s not me! Y–You’ve got the totally wrong idea!”_ Ibuki screeched, panicking. And by panicking, it meant “foaming at the mouth with arms flailing wildly in the air” panicking.

“But I recognized that playing style you used! You _are_ Dancing Flash Miki!” Ibuki’s opponent babbled on.

Ibuki screeched again.

It was probably loud enough to be heard outside, as Ryouta– _chan_ peeked in from behind the door, his eyebrows knitted together.

“I–Is everything okay, Ibuki?” Ryouta– _chan_ asked in a wheezy voice, his eyes darting back and forth between Ibuki and the two other guys in the room with her.

“Everything’s fine, Ryouta– _chan_!” Ibuki responded, trying to sound as cheerful as possible. Then in a low voice the complete opposite of what she just used with Ryouta– _chan_ , she turned to the two guys in the room with a glare. “You should leave. _Now._ ”

“Yes, Ma’am!” the two guys yelped as they snapped into a salute right before rushing out of the door.

“What was that all about?” Ryouta– _chan_ asked as he walked into the classroom still staring at those two guys as they ran away.

“I dunno,” Ibuki shrugged, lying through her teeth and hoping Ryouta– _chan_ didn’t hear any of that awkward conversation. “Maybe something came up?”

“Eh?” Ryouta– _chan_ exclaimed as he saw the screens that still flashed the game’s results. “Ibuki, you won? I knew you could do it!”

“Of course I did!” Ibuki said, puffing up her chest. “I can’t let the first customer get away with our only prize, can I?”

“Oh yeah, can I ask you something?” Ryouta– _chan_ said.

“Yeah? What is it?” Ibuki said as she took a big gulp of the sports drink she brought with her today.

“What does ‘dancing flash’ mean?”

Ibuki spat out her drink.

 

The next customer came a few minutes later, standing awkwardly at the doorway with an unnerving smile on his face. Something about him felt off to Ibuki, and it wasn’t just the hair that was making him look like a sentient cloud.

“Hello?” Sentient Cloud Man said. “We’d like to have a match. Is that okay?”

“Huh? Uh, yeah,” Ibuki said, hastily making herself presentable again after the sports drink incident. “Come in and I’ll explain the rules.”

“Oh, good. I thought you guys were closed for the day. Your usher’s fallen asleep outside, by the way,” Sentient Cloud Boy said as he walked in.

 _Again? Ryouta–_ chan _’s been sleeping a lot lately._

“Huh, okay,” Ibuki said, trying to sound unconcerned. “Anyway, so here are the rules! We’re gonna play against each other in the rhythm game running on those screens,” she continued, pointing to the monitors behind her. “And whoever gets the higher ranking and overall points wins!”

“Ah hah, that sounds fun!” Sentient Cloud Boy said, his laugh sounding just as unnerving as his smile looked. “Wanna try it, Kyouko?”

“Yep! Trust me, it’s fu—”

_Wait, Kyouko?_

Ibuki looked back up from where she was staring at the floor for her salesgirl spiel to face Sentient Cloud Boy.

Sentient Cloud Boy was facing the chair in front of one of the monitors.

On the chair was a girl Ibuki has never seen before.

In fact, Ibuki was pretty sure she didn’t even see this girl enter the room at all so how did she get in here?

 _“Eek!”_ Ibuki shrieked as she almost lost her balance.

“Hey, don’t be like that, _onee–san_ ,” Sentient Cloud Boy said. “She’s been here the whole time! But more importantly, can we start the game?”

“S–Sure,” Ibuki said, still eyeing the girl warily. She wasn’t a ghost, was she? She certainly had that mysterious aura, and her pale but pretty face illuminated by the screens mixed with her fair long hair done up in pigtails _did_ make her seem like one.

But that’s dumb, ghosts don’t exist.

The game was going perfectly at first. Well, for Ibuki, at least. The girl playing against her, on the other hand, sounded like she was on the verge of losing, judging by the frequency of her frustrated gasps every time she missed a tile.

And then the weirdest things started happening. Suddenly the tiles in Ibuki’s own screen began to disappear. Was this a bug? If it wasn’t for the fact that Ibuki had already memorized the tile patterns after playing this game the whole night, she would have missed a lot of tiles. Losing their only prize this early in the festival would be bad for their class, after all.

Now it was the moment of truth. Ibuki forced herself to look as the game results flashed onscreen. A sigh of relief escaped from her lips as she saw that she won again, but this time only by fifty points.

“Wow, you’re really good at this, _onee–san_!” Sentient Cloud Boy said, clapping his hands as he looked at the screen. Then, turning back to his friend, he said “And you, Kyouko, you were cheating, weren’t you? They went red.”

“Shut up, Nagito,” the girl said, a blush forming on her cheeks as she avoided Sentient Cloud Boy’s stare.

“You should probably apologize,” Sentient Cloud Boy continued.

But instead of doing so, the girl simply walked out of the room in a huff, prompting Sentient Cloud Boy to chase after her as he shouted a hurried “Thanks for the game! I’m sorry for this! And that wasn’t a bug in your game, don’t worry about it!” towards Ibuki.

_What was up with those two?_

And cheating? It wasn’t like the girl was hacking into the game, so what did he mean?

 

Lunch went by pretty normally. Ibuki had to wake up Ryouta– _chan_ , who for some reason had slept through the whole morning, before he ended up missing it, but aside from that nothing out of the ordinary happened.

Oh no, it was _after_ lunch that everything went downhill for Ibuki.

When Ibuki and Ryouta– _chan_ came back after buying lunch from the stalls downstairs, there was already a large crowd forming outside their classroom.

_Gamers._

_That guy from earlier blabbed online, didn’t he?_

“You think something happened, Ibuki?” Ryouta– _chan_ asked.

Ibuki, on the other hand, was already trying to hide behind him before anyone from the crowd saw her. But it was too late, one of them was already approaching.

“Excuse me,” the sleazy–looking gamer said to Ryouta– _chan_. “Isn’t there a class in this festival that was supposed to be running a rhythm game booth?”

Ryouta– _chan_ nodded. “Y–Yeah, that would be our class, but…”

“P–Pardon us, then!” the gamer guy turned to Ibuki. “So that means you must be Miki, then? It’s an honor to be finally me—”

Ibuki screeched, having heard enough, and ran her way back inside their classroom, dragging Ryouta– _chan_ with her and locking the door behind her.

“I–Ibuki?” Ryouta– _chan_ said, trying to catch his breath. “What was that about?”

Ibuki curled up in a corner of the room.

 _Why is this even happening? And while Ryouta–_ chan _’s here, too!_

The gamers were still outside their classroom, begging Miki to compete against them.

“Ibuki?” Ryouta– _chan_ repeated.

“You’re not gonna be weirded out?” Ibuki asked.

“We’ve known each other since we were _three_ ,” Ryouta– _chan_ said, rolling his eyes, right before descending into a sudden coughing fit. “I don’t think I can be weirded out by you at this point,” he added breathlessly.

“I…” Ibuki hesitated. “I play this game using the name Miki, and during the last competition this spring I placed second nationwide.”

“So _that_ ’s what you’ve been up to while I was in the hospital that time?”

The blush that was already on Ibuki’s face deepened.

Ryouta– _chan_ snickered. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Show me that game some time. So those guys outside are your fans?”

“…Probably.”

Ibuki stood up, taking a deep breath. Time to get this over with.

Sending the door flying open, she boomed. “That’s right, I’m Miki! Anyone who wants to get their ass kicked, just step right up!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kinda late because I had a lot of papers due this week but ehh
> 
> And I still can't stop uploading things at 2 am please help


	7. Bravura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hajime’s had a long fucking day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeere’s Hajime!

This was all Hanamura’s fault.

The class could have had something else for a booth, but no, Hanamura just _had_ to suggest a maid café of all things. And _of course_ , Santa– _sensei_ would immediately agree to the first suggestion just to prevent the class discussion from getting too long.

At least Hajime’s shift was finally over and he can forget he ever wore that dumb maid outfit. Unless Koizumi took photos. He hoped not, or he’d definitely lose it.

There’s just one thing that’s still bugging him.

“Why are you still wearing that?” Hajime blurted out right in the middle of the hallway.

“Huh?” Nanami said, looking up from her game.

 _“That,”_ Hajime insisted.

“Oh, uh,” Nanami hesitated as she looked down at herself and realized he meant her maid outfit. “I guess I forgot to change. Did Santa– _sensei_ say we have to return the maid uniforms today?” she asked, smiling apologetically.

_No, but I’d rather not remember I ever wore one._

“N–No, he didn’t,” Hajime said, blushing. “But you should probably return it soon.”

Nanami hummed. “I’ll just do it tomorrow,” she said as she went back to playing _Gala Omega_.

“Where are we going anyway?” Hajime asked. They’ve been walking around the school building for twenty minutes now and he still can’t figure out where she’s taking him.

“ _Oyaji_ ’s class has their own booth set up. I just wanna see how it looks,” Nanami said, not even bothering to look up from her game. “Oh, we’re here,” she announced, stopping abruptly in front of the science storage room.

Hajime skidded to a halt, narrowly avoiding bumping into her. “Your dad’s classroom is in the science storage room?” he asked, incredulous. “And why are there so many people?”

“Eh,” Nanami shrugged as she craned her neck looking for someone. “The school ran out of classrooms.”

“Is that so?” Hajime said in a deadpan voice, feeling his face twitch. That _did_ sound like something the headmaster would do to cut expenses.

“Oh, there he is,” Nanami said as she took Hajime’s hand to pull him towards whoever it was she was looking for. Hajime tried not to blush.

The person Nanami was looking for turned out to be some beleaguered student from her father’s class who looked ready to collapse on the spot from the sheer amount of people swarming their booth.

“Mitarai– _kun_!” Nanami called out, making her father’s student turn around and smile shyly when he saw her approaching.

“N–Nanami– _san_ ,” the kid stuttered. “S–Sorry, I didn’t see you there. There’s just so many people in our booth today, I’m sorry. B–But I could probably cut you in line if you want to play.”

Nanami shook her head. “You don’t have to do that, I can always play it at home. But this guy wants to play,” she said, tilting her head at Hajime’s direction.

 _“What?! No, I don’t!”_ Hajime denied with a shake of his head.

“Yes, you _do_ ,” Nanami said with a pout of her lips. “Besides, I want to see you play.” Turning back to her father’s student, she said “You look really terrible though, Mitarai– _kun_. Maybe you should sit? Shouldn’t my father be helping you today?”

“N–No, I’m fine, really,” the kid said nervously. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen _sensei_ at all yet.”

“Oh,” Nanami sighed.

“Oh, Ibuki’s free already,” the kid said, changing the topic. “I’ll see if I can make you the next in line.”

 

So for some convoluted reason, Hajime ended up here, in the challenger’s seat, waiting to play a rhythm game against another student who’s not even that particularly good at this, judging from what he saw of her playing.

“Hey, so you’re my next opponent, right?” she asked in a voice that sounded to Hajime like nails being scraped on a chalkboard. It made Hajime’s face twitch again. “Do you know the rules already or do you want me to give you a quick summary?”

“You’re not really that good even if you claim you’re the second best in this country,” Hajime snapped. “Your moves are sloppy and predictable and I was getting bored watching you a while ago.”

“…Huh?” the girl said, looking confused.

Hajime had to resist rolling his eyes. “Didn’t you hear me? I said you sucked.”

The girl shook, her face turning into a blotchy red. “So you think you can _beat_ me, is that it?”

“Sure I can. You suck, remember?” Hajime shrugged.

“ _Oh, really?!_ You’re gonna take back that statement when I beat you up in this match,” she said.

“Fine. But what if _you_ lose?” Hajime countered.

“Then I’ll do whatever you want!” she announced. “I’ll even call you _master_! But I _won’t_ lose!”

“That’s just lame,” Hajime muttered.

That pissed her off even more, making her set the game difficulty to extra hard. Perfect.

 

The last note rang out. Both Hajime and the girl were panting from the excess adrenaline while the results screen loaded.

Hajime didn’t even feel the need to look, though. He already knew he won.

The girl’s mouth opened and closed like a fish drowning on land when it finished loading. She clearly didn’t expect she’d lose against him.

“Forget about the bet,” Hajime said, turning to leave the room. “See you.”

 

“W–Wait!”

Hajime stopped walking and turned around at the sound of the voice. It was the kid from earlier, breathing heavily, and with a… specimen in his arms.

“Uhm, it’s your prize for winning our booth,” the kid said, bowing as he stretched out his arms to hand Hajime the specimen. “Please take it!”

Hajime stared incredulously. “…The fuck is that?”

“I–It’s your prize,” the kid insisted. Hajime wondered if he was blushing underneath his bow. “It’s yours, you earned it.”

“I don’t need it,” Hajime said as he started to walk away again.

The kid was persistent, though. “W–Wait! You were with Nanami– _san_ , right?”

“Y–Yeah?” Hajime raised an eyebrow, trying to sound casual. “Why?”

“Maybe _you_ don’t need this price, but Nanami– _san_ might appreciate it if you gave it to her instead?” the kid asked, looking up at Hajime expectantly.

“Can you give it directly to her for me, then?” Hajime said without stopping.

“W–What? N–No! That’s not what I meant!” the kid said as he continued to follow Hajime around. They were already at the school entrance.

Hajime reached for his shoes in his locker. “I’m sorry, I don’t really need that price.”

“Uhm, do you want a drink instead?” the kid asked, probably changing his strategy.

“What?”

 

“This is actually _good_ ,” Hajime announced, cradling the can of orange juice that the kid, who introduced himself as Mitarai Ryouta, bought for him from the nearby vending machine.

“T–That’s just a common brand, though,” Mitarai said, still trying to catch his breath.

They were sitting on a bench near the school’s baseball field. The festival was slowly dying out around them, with the visitors departing the school grounds one by one, the food stalls closing for the day, and the students cleaning up their booths and congratulating each other for a successful run, all while the setting sun turned the sky into a bright orange.

“Yeah, I know. I just never cared about it before,” Hajime said in his defense. “So you want me to give this to Nanami?” he asked, gingerly nudging the specimen with his foot.

Mitarai looked at the ground as he spoke. “It’s…okay. We can take it back and replace it if she doesn’t want it.”

“No, it’s fine,” Hajime shook his head. “If she doesn’t want it, I’ll just give it to my sister. She _kinda_ has a thing for weird stuff like this.”

“Y–You were really good back there, you know,” Mitarai said. “Are you playing in competitions too like Ibuki?”

“Ibu— oh, you mean _her_ ,” Hajime said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes again. “And no, I don’t. The game was just pretty easy for me, I guess.”

“I wish I can play like that,” Mitarai mumbled, soft enough that Hajime almost didn’t hear him.

“So why don’t you? It’s not like anything’s stopping you, right?” Hajime said.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mitarai wince. “N–No, b–but…”

“Then just do it,” Hajime sighed. “Hell, if you want, I can teach you how to play.”

“W–Well, if it’s not gonna be a bother for you…” Mitarai hesitated. “I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's fifteen minutes to four am. I need to sleep.


	8. Fermata

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The afterparty begins. But first, a few side trips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween, nerds.
> 
> In my defense, some scenes weren’t supposed to happen. They just did.

The old bell tower struck five, and as it did, Hinata– _san_ excused himself, grudgingly taking the specimen with him and promising to give it to Nanami– _san_.

Ryouta sighed as soon as he was out of sight, leaning on the bench’s backrest. One disaster averted.

He should probably head back, Ibuki will wonder where he is. Besides, the sooner they finish with cleanup, the sooner he can go home and rest.

_Has it always been this hard to climb the stairs?_

Ryouta paused, suddenly unsure. His grip on the banister tightened as he tried to catch his breath again, turning his knuckles white.

It couldn’t. Right?

Maybe he should sit down for a bit.

Except—

The world spun out, making Ryouta stumble and nearly fall down the stairs.

Oh. It _was_.

Ryouta took a deep breath, placing his free hand on his chest in a poor attempt to calm down his racing heart. How had he not noticed it until now?

Slowly, carefully, he sat down on the steps, still holding on to the banister in case he blacked out again.

He _can’t_ stay. He needed to go back upstairs. Ibuki would think he ditched her. And all his stuff is still upstairs, too.

It’s… not that bad _yet_. He could still go back and pretend nothing happened and maybe help with the rest of cleanup.

Yeah, he should do that. He needed to stop being such a nuisance.

Ryouta pulled himself up with the banister, breath shaking.

Ryouta arrived in their classroom ten minutes later. Ibuki was already waiting outside the door, a sullen expression on her face. Ryouta offered her a weak smile the moment she saw him.

“What took Ryouta– _chan_ so long? Ibuki was getting worried,” Ibuki said with a pout.

“S–Sorry…” Ryouta mumbled, not quite looking at her in the eyes.

“Ryouta– _chan_?” Ibuki asked, her tone suddenly softening. “Are you okay?”

“Y–Yeah, just… winded,” Ryouta said, stumbling over words with his mouth that felt like cotton. “Still not used to climbing six flights of stairs,” he added breathlessly.

 _“Liar,”_ Ibuki said so sharply that it startled him. “You’re shaking _and_ you’re clutching your chest again.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Ryouta insisted, even if the truth was the lightheadedness he was feeling was steadily growing worse.

Ibuki didn’t look persuaded.

“Ryouta– _chan_ should sit and rest,” she said. “Ibuki will just have to finish cleanup quickly so we can go home.”

“B–But—”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Ibuki waved off his protest. “Ibuki only has to detach the construction paper from the windows and take down the curtains. Kizakura– _sensei_ promised he’d take care of the equipment. Where’s that guy, anyway? Are your meds still in the usual pocket of your bag? Do you want me to get them?” she rattled off her usual fast–paced way of talking that Ryouta could barely keep track of what she was saying.

“N–No, I don’t— I’ll be fine, Ibuki,” Ryouta sighed, unable to focus. “I’m really just tired, don’t worry.”

“You sure?” Ibuki asked, pinning him with that stare she knows he hates so much. “At least sit down.”

“I’m sure.”

Ibuki fell into the rhythm of cleaning up the classroom quickly enough, helped by the fact that she was wearing her headphones, humming along and nodding her head to what Ryouta was sure was another heavy metal album as she carefully removed all of the decorations they stuck all over the walls and windows of their classroom.

Ryouta watched her from where he was sitting on his desk, and got increasingly frustrated with himself.

_Are you really just gonna let Ibuki do everything by herself?_

_Why are you so useless?_

He should help her around. The curtains, he decided. He should at least take down the curtains on the door for her.

Ryouta made his way towards the door slowly, chest heaving with every step he made. By the time Ibuki notices what he’s doing, he’d definitely be done with the curtain. _Then_ he’ll rest.

But blood roared in his ears and in that moment, the world went dark.

“—ta– _chan_! Ryouta– _chan_ , wake up!”

“Ibuki?” Ryouta whispered as he opened his eyes that felt too heavy. “What happened?”

“Ryouta– _chan_!” Ibuki gasped. She was sitting down on the floor beside him. “You’re awake! I’m glad!”

“What happened?” Ryouta repeated.

Ibuki choked back a sob. “You fainted! What were you even doing? I thought you were sitting down and resting!”

“Sorry,” Ryouta said as he tried to sit up. “I was just trying to take down the curtains so you don’t have to.”

“Don’t, you’ll just blackout again,” Ibuki warned him, her voice sounding hoarse.

“Ibuki, are you crying?”

“Of course I am!” Ibuki screeched. “I was worried, idiot!”

“I’m fine now, I’m sorry,” Ryouta breathed out.

“You’re not lying again, are you?” Ibuki asked.

Ryouta shook his head. “Can we go home?”

“Yeah, I’m done with cleanup,” Ibuki said. “But only if you’re really fine. I can’t carry you down the stairs.”

“Oi! Ibuki– _chan_! Mitarai– _kun_! You guys still in here?”

Kizakura– _sensei_ ’s voice echoed through the hallway outside, and a moment later, the door flew open to reveal the man himself.

“Oh, good, you haven’t left yet,” Kizakura– _sensei_ said. “Wait, what happened here?” he asked, squinting at them.

“S–Sorry, it’s nothing,” Ryouta said as he attempted to sit up again despite Ibuki’s protests, the effort leaving him out of breath again. “I just fainted, that’s all.”

Kizakura– _sensei_ kneeled beside them, raising an eyebrow. “ _Just_ fainted? You realize that’s bad, right, kid?”

“N–No, I’m fine now, really, don’t worry about me, _sensei_ ,” Ryouta said, trying to even out his breathing to prove it.

“No, you’re not,” Kizakura– _sensei_ said flatly, taking Ryouta’s wrist before he can pull away. “It’s too fast,” He frowned. “I’m taking you to the hospital. Can you stand?”

“ _N–No_ , I _don’t_ —”

“I’ll carry you if I have to,” Kizakura– _sensei_ said, cutting him off. “Scratch that, I’ll carry you anyway, you shouldn’t be going down eight flights of stairs like this.”

_“A–Ah, Ibuki, help!”_

“I’m never carrying you again. How are you so heavy?” Kizakura– _sensei_ asked, stretching himself out by his car before hopping in himself.

In the backseat, Ibuki was trying to suppress another giggle.

“Y–You didn’t have to do that, _sensei_. I could’ve gone down the stairs on my own,” Ryouta said, fidgeting in the backseat beside her and still furiously blushing. “And I really don’t need a hospital.”

“Too late, I’m already driving us there,” Kizakura– _sensei_ said as he started the car’s engine. “Good thing the resto reservation isn’t until 8.”

“Wait, resto?” Ibuki asked.

Kizakura– _sensei_ shrugged. “Yeah, all the other classes are having their own after parties so I figured we should, too. You guys earned it. Soon as we’ve stopped by the hospital, at least. And you should probably call your parents to tell them you’ll be home late. I’ll be driving you two back, don’t worry.”

“So? What happened _this_ time?”

Ryouta squirmed in his seat under Isha– _sensei_ ’s piercing gaze, not knowing what to say.

“Ryouta– _kun_ …” Isha– _sensei_ sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I clearly remember telling you after the last time to stay home and rest for at least a month. It hasn’t even been _two weeks_ yet.”

“Sorry…” Ryouta mumbled, choosing to stare at the floor instead.

“You’re lucky your teacher insisted on bringing you here before it got out of control,” Isha– _sensei_ continued. “You know you shouldn’t be placing yourself in stressful situations with your condition, Ryouta– _kun_ , so why do you keep on doing it?”

“I–I—” Ryouta said, his breath hitching.

_It’s your fault, stop crying like you’ve done nothing wrong._

Isha– _sensei_ gently shushed him, smiling kindly at Ryouta. “I’m not mad, don’t worry. I’m just saying, the medicine I prescribe can only do so much. You have to help yourself, too. So. How many times has this happened between tonight and the last time you were here?”

“T–Twice, _sensei_.”

Isha– _sensei_ clucked his tongue. “Not good. I’ll need to switch to you to stronger meds. And _please_ , stop pushing yourself, Ryouta– _kun_. Your heart’s getting weaker. The next time _will_ be worse than this if you’re not careful.”

“Yes, _sensei_ …”

The tears threatened to fall again.

“Cheer up, child,” Isha– _sensei_ said, patting Ryouta’s hand. “And don’t lose hope. Candy? I restocked on the melon ones,” he offered, giving the candy bowl a shake as he smiled at Ryouta.

“Thank you, _sensei_ ,” Ryouta mumbled, reluctantly grabbing a handful of the melon candy.

“Well, off you go. They’re waiting for you outside.”

Kizakura– _sensei_ stood up immediately as soon as he saw Ryouta leaving Isha– _sensei_ ’s office.

“And?” Kizakura– _sensei_ asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ryouta forced himself to smile as he answered. “I told you I’m fine, _sensei_. Where’s Ibuki?”

“Went back to my car to take a nap, her narcolepsy’s getting to her again,” Kizakura– _sensei_ shrugged. “Ready to go?”

Ryouta nodded.

The restaurant Kizakura– _sensei_ got a reservation for turned out to be a Chinese one, and none of the other classes seemed to be having their after party in it, likely because it was located closer to the hospital than the school.

“So are you okay now, Ryouta– _chan_?” Ibuki asked with a yawn before grabbing another serving of stir fry.

“Huh? Y–Yeah,” Ryouta said, staring miserably at the pile of food in front of him that he didn’t really have an appetite for. “More importantly, how come you never told me you were so good at games?”

Ibuki made a sputtering noise, blushing as hard as she did that afternoon.

“So he already found out about your hobby, huh, Ibuki– _chan_?” Kizakura– _sensei_ said, laughing as avoided Ibuki’s attempt to slap his arm.

“You didn’t have to hide it, you know,” Ryouta said. “In fact, you actually got me curious. Did you get Miki from the _kana_ of your name?”

“Y–Yeah,” Ibuki stuttered, still embarrassed. “So?”

Ryouta hummed. “It suits you. Also,” he said, rummaging through his school bag to grab his sketchpad and flipping through it until he found the page he was looking for. “I kinda drew her while you were sleeping in the car?”

Ibuki stared at the page for a long time.

“She looks like me! But with longer hair! And a cute outfit! Thanks, Ryouta– _chan_!” Ibuki exclaimed, rapid–fire as always and with a huge smile lighting up her face.

Ryouta blushed.

“Wait,” Ibuki suddenly said, squinting. “Is that supposed to be you on the opposite page? He looks like you but with a reversed color scheme.”

“Oh, uhm, yeah. I call him Mirai,” Ryouta admitted.

“Mirai? Did you get that from your name too?” Ibuki asked.

“…Yeah.”

“Well, he looks cute too,” Ibuki declared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it’s not 2 AM this time.
> 
> I kinda forgot to say this last chapter, but the HPA headmaster in this AU is Tengan.
> 
> Isha– _sensei_ ’s name was suggested by jinjojess. Ask her for the pun, not me.
> 
>  
> 
> [Hikarinchan actually already drew Miki and Mirai, so](https://hikarinchan.tumblr.com/tagged/kagerou%20ronpa)
> 
> Okay, goodnight. See you guys next week.


	9. Andamento

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A last normal August 15th.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re in uncharted territory now, folks.

The leaves of the _sakura_ tree swayed along with the rare summer breeze.

It was _Obon_ , the time of the year reserved for remembering lost loved ones.

Hajime himself hasn’t been to their town’s cemetery ever since his stepfather drowned in the beach saving his sister a few years back. There wasn’t even a body to bury after all, so what was the point?

But this year? This year was different.

Mostly because Nanami dragged him out of bed so she has someone to accompany her in visiting her family’s grave.

So here he was under the sweltering heat of the sun, awkwardly standing behind Nanami and watching as she paid her respects to her dead beneath the great _sakura_ tree where her family’s grave was located.

Only two names were etched into the stone, and if Nanami didn’t tell him otherwise, Hajime wouldn’t have believed they were related.

The last bits of incense burned away just as Nanami stood up from where she was kneeling, brushed away the dirt from the hems of her skirt, and turned to Hajime with a melancholy smile.

“Hinata– _kun_ , aren’t you going to visit your family grave? I’ll go with you if you want,” she asked.

“No, thanks,” Hajime said. “We’ve already lit incense at home and I think my mother’s already been here this morning. Where else are you even going anyway? It’s not even noon yet.”

Nanami hummed before speaking. “Well, there _is_ one place.”

 

The low–rent apartment complexes gave way to cheap single–family houses similar to the one Hajime lived in, and even those were replaced by luxury townhouses and mansions, and still Nanami kept on walking, trailing Hajime behind her. He already had to pull her out of traffic at least once because all her attentions were focused on the game she was playing. Somehow this scene felt oddly familiar.

Then suddenly, she stopped. Hajime had to back away a few steps so he wouldn’t bump into her. Beyond the gate she stopped in front of was an architectural atrocity, a house with its walls made of glass that made it look like an ice queen’s castle, if said ice queen was a hippie. And waving aggressively at them from behind the front wall was _her_.

_Great._

The gate turned out to be open, so Nanami walked in right after waving back to Mioda. Hajime followed behind her, dragging his feet along. Meanwhile, Mioda already threw open the front door and was currently barreling towards Nanami.

“Chiaki– _chan_!” she said as she crashed into Nanami for a hug.

“Glad to see you, too, Mioda– _san_ ,” Nanami said, smiling as she awkwardly patted Mioda’s back.

Mioda pulled away from the hug after a while, and turned to Hajime with a mocking bow as she spoke. “Master.”

“I told you to stop calling me that,” muttered Hajime.

Mioda snickered in response. “Let’s go inside. _Kaa–chan_ ’s making lunch,” she said as she took Nanami’s hand in hers and pulled her towards the house, laughing all the way.

 

The interior of the house didn’t look any less weird than the exterior. The living room was full of odd–looking figurines and plastered on the walls were abstract paintings Hajime wasn’t sure he wanted to know the meaning of.

Mioda led them into the kitchen adjacent to the living room and Hajime’s senses were immediately assaulted by the sound of oil sizzling on the wok and the aroma of the _miso_ soup simmering in the clay pot beside it.

What was surprising was that Mitarai was there, reasoning out with a woman Hajime supposed was Mioda’s mother.

“— let me go this year,” Mitarai said.

“Not unless someone goes with you,” Mioda’s mother said as she seasoned the meat on the chopping board.

“I’ll be back before seven,” Mitarai tried again.

Mioda’s mother hummed. “Sounds impossible,” she said, coating the meat in flour and dipping it in beaten eggs.

“Uh, what’s happening?” Hajime said, turning to Mioda who’s snickering between him and Nanami.

“Ryouta– _chan_ ’s trying to get permission to go to Comiket again,” she replied, snorting. “Shh, let’s watch.”

“—kyo isn’t even that far, it’s just two train rides away,” Mitarai said, pouting.

“It’s literally another prefecture over, Ryouta,” Mioda’s mother said, dropping the now _panko_ –coated meat into the hot oil.

“But _Oba-san_ ,” Mitarai whined. “I’m gonna be sixteen in two weeks.”

“And your point is?” Mioda’s mother asked, turning to a new chopping board to slice up an onion. “What if something happens to you and we don’t find out because you’re all alone? The answer is still no, Ryouta. Go and hang out with Ibuki while I finish with lunch, okay?”

Ryouta stalked off, sulking as he went towards them.

“She’d let you go one day, don’t worry,” Mioda said, patting Mitarai’s shoulder.

Mitarai sighed.

 

Lunch was _katsudon_ , as Hajime suspected, set on the huge circular table made of tempered glass. Hajime felt like he was imposing on them at first, but the Miodas turned out to be delighted at having guests over.

“Isn’t he a guest, too?” Hajime said, referring to Mitarai who was sitting across from him and sullenly picking at the contents of his bowl.

“Don’t silly, Master. Ryouta– _chan_ lives just next door. He’s family,” Mioda replied, nudging Mitarai beside her.

“Please stop calling me that,” Hajime muttered.

“I still think I should be allowed to go to Comiket,” Mitarai mumbled into his bowl.

“There’s still a next time, Ryouta,” Mioda’s mother said.

“But what if there _isn’t_ a next time?” Mitarai protested.

“Akiko, why is your son so difficult?” Mioda’s mother sighed, looking heavenward. “I already said no, Ryouta.”

Mitarai went back to eating in silence.

“Thank you for having us, Mioda– _san_ ,” Nanami said, turning to Mioda’s mother in an attempt to change the subject.

“It’s not a problem,” Mioda’s mother said, smiling at Nanami. “I’m glad these two have friends besides each other.”

 _“We’re_ not _friends!”_ Hajime and Mioda shouted at the same time.

Everyone else burst out laughing as Hajime and Mioda turned red.

 

“Alright, you boys leave,” Mioda said as soon as they got to the living room.

“Wait, what?” Mitarai said. “Why?”

“It’s girl bonding time,” Mioda announced. “Right, Chiaki– _chan_?”

Nanami nodded without taking her eyes off her game. When did she get that out of her pocket?

“B–But—” Mitarai started to protest.

“I’ll call you for dinner,” Mioda said, already herding the two of them out the door.

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what got into her,” Mitarai said, fumbling with his house keys.

“It’s fine,” Hajime said.

Mitarai opened the door, sighing. “S–So, uh, any ideas what we can do until they’re done?”

Hajime shrugged. “I can teach you how to play video games like I said, I guess.”

“I–I didn’t think you’d remember,” Mitarai managed to stutter through his embarrassment. “B–But thanks, I appreciate it.”

 

Mitarai left Hajime in the living room for a while to get back to his room, trailing out a string of apologies before he left. It gave Hajime an opportunity to look around him.

Simply put, Mitarai’s house was larger than the Miodas’. On second thought, it was not a house, it was a mansion. Western–style. Hajime was pretty sure it could fit two of his own house.

Large, yes, but empty. The cabinet built on the wall might once have had books lining its shelves, but not anymore. Aside from a few figurines and vases lining the sides and the television in the center, there was barely anything there.

Except there, at the topmost shelf. An altar, incense still burning on either side of it. A picture in the center, the only thing in the room not gathering dust. In it was a woman, a spitting image of Mitarai (or did Hajime get that backwards?) that it can’t be anyone but his mother.

_How long has Mitarai been living by himself?_

That timid voice snapped him out of thought.

“A–Ah, I’m sorry for making you wait, Hinata– _san_ ,” Mitarai said, descending the stairs, seemingly paler than when he went up a while ago and carrying a laptop in his arm.

“No, it’s nothing. You weren’t gone for that long anyway,” Hajime hastily said, as if he wasn’t just staring at something he wasn’t supposed to.

“Huh,” Mitarai said, blinking. “Really? But I thought…”

“Did you—” Hajime said, staring at him incredulously. “Did you somehow lose track of the time?”

“Y–Yeah, sorry…” Mitarai mumbled.

Hajime sighed, shaking his head. “Never mind. Now what are we gonna do?”

“I–I still have a copy of the game from the festival in here,” Mitarai said, fumbling with how he should place his laptop down on the coffee table.

Hajime snatched it from him exasperatedly instead, placing it down himself. “Fine, I guess.”

 

Mitarai sighed aloud, putting down his controller. “I’m never gonna win against you.”

“Not my fault you were barely paying attention to the game,” Hajime countered.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Mitarai sighed again.

Hajime groaned. “No, don’t— ugh, never mind.”

“Oh, so— _right_ ,” Mitarai shook his head. “You think they’re done already with whatever they’re doing? It’s almost six.”

“You tell me,” Hajime shrugged. “Mioda’s your friend.”

“Nanami– _san_ ’s also your friend, isn’t she?” Mitarai asked.

Hajime started to blush. “I’ve only known her since the start of the school year. You’re neighbors with Mioda. _That_ ’s longer. I even thought you guys were together at first because of how close you are.”

“What?  _No!_  She’s like my _sister_! But yeah, I guess we _are_ close.” Mitarai smiled sadly. “It’s good she has other friends now when…” he said, trailing off before abruptly clearing his throat. “Sorry, don’t mind me. We should probably go and see what they’re up to, right?”

 

In hindsight, maybe Hajime should have asked what he meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m actually early this week, amazing.


	10. Acciaccatura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The curtains fall on an idyllic summer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes™

“Chiaki– _chan_ , have you played this one before?” Ibuki asked, holding up the casing of an FPS game for Chiaki– _chan_ to inspect.

“I don’t think so?” Chiaki– _chan_ said, taking her eyes off her game boy and frowning. “It’s been a while since I played FPS games.”

“I haven’t either, actually,” Ibuki admitted. “Wanna play it?”

Chiaki– _chan_ nodded, returning to her game.

Ibuki inserted the disk into the console, grinning as she tossed one of the controllers to Chiaki– _chan_ , who caught it in one hand without even taking her eyes off the game boy, smiling back.

Ibuki felt her face heating up, and shook her head to get rid of it.

 

“You sure you really haven’t played this before? Because you’re _good_ ,” Ibuki said, aiming at another zombie that popped up onscreen.

“Eh,” Chiaki– _chan_ said flatly, shooting at the same zombie before Ibuki had the time to do it herself.

“Aw, I lost again,” Ibuki complained. “By the way, do you have something to do on the 30th?” she asked as she put the controller down for a bit to flex her hands.

“What’s with the—?” Chiaki– _chan_ thought aloud. “ _Oh._ Are you planning something?”

“Not much,” Ibuki shrugged. “Maybe an outing? _Kaa–chan_ ’s already promised she’s gonna cook for us. You can even bring _that guy_ with you. I think Ryouta– _chan_ likes him.”

“Hinata– _kun_? I’ll try, but he’s never easy to convince,” Chiaki– _chan_ said. “Another round?”

“Of course. I’ll win eventually.”

 

“So? What did you guys even do? Ryouta– _chan_ looks exhausted,” Ibuki said, stooping down to be at eye level with Ryouta– _chan_.

Ryouta– _chan_ waved her away, scoffing weakly. “I’m _fine_. We were just playing that game from the festival. And you forgot to call for dinner,” he said right before taking another bite of the _katsu_ curry with his spoon.

“I already said I’m sorry,” Ibuki whined. “And since when did Ryouta– _chan_ care about dinner?”

Ryouta– _chan_ just shrugged.

“Are you two staying for the evening, Nanami– _san_?” _Kaa–chan_ asked. “Ibuki didn’t mention anything, but I like to make sure.”

“Oh, we won’t, Mioda– _san_ ,” Chiaki– _chan_ said, smiling. “ _Oyaji_ will be worried if I don’t go home soon, and Makoto needs my help tending to the stray he brought home. And Hinata– _kun_ —” she said as she elbowed him. “—also needs to go home soon to look after his sister.”

“I might have to go back home after dinner, too, _Oba–san_ ,” Ryouta– _chan_ piped up. “I haven’t fed Lune yet.”

“Lune?” _that guy_ asked.

“Master hasn’t met Lune yet?” Ibuki said. “Lucky.”

“Lune’s my cat, Hinata– _san_ ,” Ryouta– _chan_ answered. “He’s been sleeping all afternoon, so…”

Ibuki snorted. “Ryouta– _chan_ ’s _hell_ cat is what he meant.”

“Ibuki…” Ryouta– _chan_ sighed.

“It’s true though. Ryouta– _chan_ ’s the only person that Lune likes,” Ibuki shrugged.

“You didn’t have to call him a hellcat, he’s sweet,” Ryouta– _chan_ mumbled.

 _Kaa–chan_ cleared her throat. “Right, that’s enough. You kids be careful later when you go home later, it’s getting dark outside.”

 

The 29th of August dawned bright and cheery. Not a single cloud was in sight.

Which was why Ibuki could not understand why Ryouta– _chan_ was still sound asleep in his bed at eleven in the morning.

It was the only explanation why he’s not picking up his phone. He probably stayed up way too late working on his sketches again like he’d been doing for the past week. Not that Ibuki doesn’t stay up late as well, but at least she doesn’t sleep in until noon.

After ten minutes and twenty rings, Ryouta– _chan_ finally picked up.

“Ibuki?” Ryouta– _chan_ whispered groggily, punctuated by a coughing fit. It made Ibuki feel a bit guilty about waking him up. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Ibuki said, clearing her own throat. “Has Ryouta– _chan_ eaten anything since last night?”

“N–No, I— I just woke up. Sorry,” Ryouta– _chan_ said. “What time is it?”

“Half past eleven.”

“ _Oh._ I— I’ll be there for lunch, don’t worry,” Ryouta– _chan_ promised.

 

As it turned out, Ryouta– _chan_ _didn’t_ come down for lunch, having fallen right back asleep after the call was finished. At least that’s what he said when Ibuki went to his house to check.

“I did— I did eat lunch, though. I–I still know my way around the kitchen,” Ryouta– _chan_ said in his defense, smiling apologetically at Ibuki as he sat down beside her on his living room sofa.

“Instant noodles again, Ryouta– _chan_?” Ibuki teased.

“Y–Yeah, that’s it,” Ryouta– _chan_ mumbled.

_That felt wrong._

Ibuki turned to face him, brows furrowing. “You okay, Ryouta– _chan_?”

“Sorry, I’m just tired. And cold, I guess,” Ryouta– _chan_ said, blinking slowly.

_That explained the cardigan, at least. Then again…_

“Summer isn’t over yet, Ryouta– _chan_ can’t be _that_ cold,” Ibuki countered.

Ryouta– _chan_ shrugged. “Just am. Why are you here, anyway?”

“Ryouta– _chan_ has better cable,” Ibuki said, turning on the television.

It was Ryouta– _chan_ ’s turn to stare. “Seriously?”

“Come on, just let me watch this television concert,” Ibuki pleaded, looking at him with puppy–dog eyes. “They’re airing an _anime_ movie after this, too.”

“I feel so used,” Ryouta– _chan_ sighed.

 

“Ryouta– _chan_ , wake up, your head’s too heavy. And the frame of your glasses are digging into my shoulder,” Ibuki said, trying to nudge Ryouta– _chan_ ’s head off her shoulder.

When that didn’t work, Ibuki tried pushing him off slowly, flinching when she accidentally touched Ryouta– _chan_ ’s hand. It felt like she was touching ice.

_Wow, so he really is cold._

“Come _on_ ,” Ibuki groaned. “Wake up, it’s almost dinner.”

“H–Huh? Sorry, what?” Ryouta– _chan_ breathed out, finally blinking awake.

“Ryouta– _chan_ fell asleep _again_ ,” Ibuki said exasperatedly. “ _Kaa–chan_ ’s already calling us for dinner.”

“Dinner? What time is it?” Ryouta– _chan_ asked, looking at Ibuki with bleary eyes while readjusting his glasses.

“It’s almost six. Don’t go back to sleep,” Ibuki replied, standing up and waiting for Ryouta– _chan_ to do the same.

“Okay,” Ryouta– _chan_ sighed, inhaling sharply when he stood up.

“Ryouta– _chan_?” Ibuki said, tilting her head towards him.

Ryouta– _chan_ shook his head. “N–Nothing. J–Just stood up too quickly, that’s all.”

“Sure?” Ibuki asked again.

Ryouta– _chan_ nodded. “Y–Yeah, I’m sure.”

 

“Something wrong, Ryouta? You haven’t touched anything on your plate,” _Kaa–chan_ asked, raising an eyebrow. “And here I thought you liked the way I cook _unagi_.”

Ryouta– _chan_ looked up, sighing. “S–Sorry, I just— I’m not really hungry, I’m sorry.”

“Eat even a bit?” _Kaa–chan_ said. “And no sighing at the dinner table.”

“Sorry, I–I’ll try to,” Ryouta– _chan_ said, picking up his chopsticks again.

 _Tou–chan_ hummed. “Don’t force yourself if you really can’t.”

“Ryouta– _chan_ , are you doing something tomorrow?” Ibuki asked.

Ryouta– _chan_ stopped pushing around the food on his plate. “N–No, why? What’s tomorrow?”

“Sunday?” Ibuki said, trying to sound casual. “The last day before we go back to school?”

“Oh, uh… sorry, I didn’t realize,” Ryouta– _chan_ said, blinking.

“So, you want to go out tomorrow?” Ibuki asked.

Ryouta– _chan_ shook his head. “N–No, sorry, I don’t think I can. C–Can I be excused? I’m tired, I’m sorry.”

“Alright,” _Kaa–chan_ said. “But stay in the living room.”

Ryouta– _chan_ nodded as he started to leave. “Sorry.”

“Ibuki, did something happen?” _Tou–chan_ asked as soon as Ryouta– _chan_ was out of sight.

“Nope,” Ibuki said, emphasizing the word. “He just fell asleep while we were watching television.”

 _Kaa–chan_ and _Tou–chan_ shared a look.

“I’d better talk to him later,” _Kaa–chan_ said.

 

The scarf was a deep shade of scarlet and made of thick wool. Ibuki bought it on sale last week and had meant to give it to Ryouta– _chan_ on Christmas but she decided she should give it on his birthday instead. He just looked like he was so cold. The pens can wait until Christmas.

Ibuki went upstairs to her room after dinner to wrap it up before she forgot again. She should probably call Chiaki– _chan_ to tell her the plans for tomorrow have changed. They’ll have to figure out something else to do for Ryouta– _chan_ ’s birthday. A surprise party at home instead? Would Ryouta– _chan_ even like that?

Ibuki had just finished wrapping the scarf in a gift wrapper when she heard a loud crash and a cold feeling rushed through her. Was that a vase? What was happening outside?

Ibuki came rushing back downstairs and to the living room.

She would never forget the sight that greeted her even if it took a hundred years.

There were shards of a figurine on the floor that used to be on the edge of the coffee table.

The front door was open.

 _Tou–chan_ was nowhere in sight.

 _Kaa–chan_ was kneeling on the floor, shushing and whispering assurances to Ryouta– _chan_ whose head was resting on her lap and breathing in short, sharp gasps as _Kaa–chan_ continued to smooth out his hair.

Ibuki felt tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Ibuki?” _Kaa–chan_ said in a quivering voice when she saw her. “Don’t— please don’t cry. Come here, love.”

Ibuki remained rooted to the spot. “I–Is he—?”

“H–He— Ryouta’s gonna be _fine_ , I promise,” _Kaa–chan_ said, furiously shaking her head. “Please, _please_ don’t cry. Your father’s already calling for help outside.”

As if on cue, _Tou–chan_ came running back inside just as Ryouta– _chan_ began to fuss in _Kaa–chan_ ’s arms.

“The ambulance is here,” _Tou–chan_ said to _Kaa–chan_. “Oh, _Ibuki_ …” he said, walking to her side when he noticed her presence. “Let’s go to the kitchen, you don’t have to see this. Yui, you’re going with them, right? We’ll follow after you.”

 _Kaa–chan_ nodded back and returned to whispering to Ryouta– _chan_ not to stop breathing as _Tou–chan_ led Ibuki to the kitchen.

 

“ _Tou–chan_ , I…”

 _Was Ryouta–_ chan _sick the whole time?_

_Was it my fault for not noticing anything?_

A sob caught in Ibuki’s throat, leaving her unable to finish her sentence.

“It’s gonna be okay, Ibuki,” _Tou–chan_ whispered, removing a hand from the steering wheel for a moment to squeeze Ibuki’s own hand. “Don’t think about it, kiddo. Hey, didn’t Babymetal release a new album a while back? You want to listen to it while we’re driving?”

Ibuki shook her head.

“Alright. Alright, Ibuki,” _Tou–chan_ said.

The rest of the drive passed in silence.

 

The hospital they went to was near the park in the middle of the city. The way was there already familiar to Ibuki, being the same one they went to after the festival and even before that, it was where Ibuki and Ryouta– _chan_ had spent parts of their childhood. The sense of familiarity did nothing to ease Ibuki’s fears, though. If anything, it only made her feel worse.

 _Kaa–chan_ was sitting on a plastic bench when they arrived, staring blankly at one of the beds screened away from sight by curtains and had nurses darting in and out of it.

Ibuki’s heart fell to her stomach.

“What happened, Yui?” _Tou–chan_ asked _Kaa–chan_ softly as he and Ibuki sat down on either side of her.

“He—” _Kaa–chan_ started, her lips wobbling. “He said he was sorry,” she continued, voice breaking as she burst into tears, her face hidden by her hands.

The clock in the emergency room struck twelve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have completely lost control of this narrative this chapter wasn't originally supposed to be a thing  
>  i'll fix this next chapter i swear i'm sorryyy


	11. Morendo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryouta has never liked hospitals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to angst hell.

“I think he’s waking up! _Kaa–chan!_ ”

_What was Ibuki doing in his room?_

Ryouta opened his eyes slowly, wondering why it was so difficult to do, and the blurry sight of Ibuki’s worried face greeted him in what was definitely not his room.

_Where—?_

“Ryouta– _chan_!” Ibuki said with what sounded like the beginnings of a sob. “You’re awake!”

“I—”

_Why does his throat hurt so much?_

Before Ryouta could figure out the answer, Ibuki wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug, the suddenness of it knocking the air out of his lungs.

“Careful, Ibuki,” Ryouta heard _Oba–san_ say in a raspy voice.

_Why is—?_

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Ibuki whispered, sniffling and still not letting go of him.

“Y–Yeah…” Ryouta said, rubbing circles on Ibuki’s back with his too–heavy arms. “W–What happened?”

Ibuki quieted almost immediately, letting go of the hug.

“Ibuki?” Ryouta tried again.

“You don’t remember anything, Ryouta?” _Oba–san_ asked.

“S–Sorry, I—”

_What was—?_

_Why can’t he remember anything?_

Ryouta’s chest tightened, his breathing quick and shallow as tears began pricking at his eyes.

“Ryouta?” _Oba–san_ ’s soft voice called out, already next to him and Ibuki, snapping him out of it. “Okay there, darling?”

Ryouta nodded, too drained of energy to speak.

“You sure?” _Oba–san_ asked. “Maybe I should—”

Ryouta shook his head, still trying to steady out his breathing. “Just… just tired. S–Sorry…”

“Hey, no, don’t apologize,” _Oba–san_ shushed, smoothing out Ryouta’s hair. “You should probably go back to sleep.”

Ryouta nodded, giving her a drowsy half–smile and not protesting for once, and drifted back into a dreamless sleep.

 

The next time Ryouta woke up, the glare of the midday sun was in his eyes.

Ibuki was sitting at his bedside, asleep and her head resting on the edge of his bed. She didn’t look comfortable. _Oba–san_ was nodding off on another plastic chair beside her, leaning on the backrest with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

_Why were they here?_

_Where_ was _“here?”_

While Ryouta was still thinking of an answer, Ibuki woke up, yawning loudly, and was lazily stretching out her arms when she noticed him. She beamed immediately.

“Hi,” Ryouta whispered, smiling back.

“Ryouta– _chan_?” Ibuki said, moving her chair closer towards him. “Are you really awake now?”

“Y–Yeah, I guess,” Ryouta mumbled, before realizing what Ibuki said. “W–What do you mean?”

“Oh, uhm…” Ibuki fumbled.

Ibuki _never_ fumbled.

“Y–You should ask _Kaa–chan_ instead,” she continued, already moving to wake up _Oba–san_.

“N–No, don’t,” Ryouta said. “I can always—”

Too late, _Oba–san_ ’s already awake.

“Ryouta?” _Oba–san_ said with a yawn. “How are you feeling?”

“F–Fine,” Ryouta said, looking down with unfocused eyes. “S–Sorry Ibuki woke you up. W–Where… where are we?”

 _Oba–san_ sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Ibuki? Could you please leave the room for a bit, love?”

Ibuki glanced at Ryouta with an apologetic smile before nodding and walking out of the room.

 _“Oh, Ryouta,” Oba–san_ breathed out. “You really don’t remember anything?”

Ryouta furrowed his eyebrows. “N–No?”

“What day is it?” _Oba–san_ asked softly, leaning in closer to Ryouta.

“Saturday…?” Ryouta hesitated.

“It’s _Sunday_ afternoon, Ryouta,” _Oba–san_ corrected. “You’ve been in the hospital since last night.”

“I–I—” Ryouta struggled to find words, panic rising in his chest as he finally noticed the sounds of the machines around him that seemed to get louder by the second.

_Sunday?_

_Hospital?_

_Why was he—?_

_What—?_

_Did he—?_

Ryouta felt his heart speed up, his hand automatically clutching his chest as he tried to breathe.

Ryouta heard _Oba–san_ shush him and felt a gentle squeeze on his free hand.

“Hey,” he heard her say. “Calm down. You’re okay. I’m here. I’m here, Ryouta.”

“Where—” Ryouta’s breath hitched. “Where’s Papa?”

“Called him already. He says he’s coming home as soon as he can,” _Oba–san_ assured him.

“W–What happened? Why am I—?” Ryouta tried asking again.

“We’ll… _talk_ about it when you’re better,” _Oba–san_ said, clearing her throat. “Rest and don’t think about it for now, okay?”

 

 “—should just come back later, he’s still sleeping.”

 _Hinata–_ san _?_

“We’re already here, we can wait for him to wake up.”

 _Nanami–_ san _?_

_Why were they here?_

Ryouta forced his eyes open, exhausted as he was, even though there was a small part of him that wanted to stay asleep. He blinked, trying to see the room with his blurry eyesight, and turned to the direction of their voices.

Nanami– _san_ and Hinata– _san_ were bantering in the doorway of his room, with Kizakura– _sensei_ watching them amusedly from behind. _Oba–san_ and Ibuki were nowhere to be seen, which meant they must have left the room while he was sleeping. Ryouta hoped it meant they already went home for the day. They shouldn’t be staying here worrying about him.

_Maybe it meant Papa was already there to watch him instead._

Ryouta got seized by a sudden coughing fit, lasting for a few horrible moments before finally letting up and leaving him out of breath again. It made Nanami– _san_ and Hinata– _san_ abruptly stop mid–banter and turn their attention towards him.

“S–Sorry, I’m okay,” Ryouta mumbled as he tried to get his bearings back.

“Hey, kid,” Kizakura– _sensei_ greeted, as carefree as ever. “How are you feeling?”

Ryouta tried to shrug. “ _Sensei_? Why are you guys here?”

“Heard what happened from Mioda– _san_ this morning and these two wanted to come visit, so now I’m their chaperone,” Kizakura– _sensei_ said, herding Nanami– _san_ and Hinata– _san_ into the room.

“They didn’t actually tell me what was going on,” Hinata– _san_ muttered before getting elbowed in the ribs by Nanami– _san_.

Ryouta snickered.

Nanami– _san_ looked like she was smiling at him as she placed a basket of what seemed to be flowers on the bedside table. “They’re not much, but I hope you like them, Mitarai– _kun_ ,” she said.

“T–Thanks, you didn’t have really to bother, though,” Ryouta said sheepishly.

“Here,” Hinata– _san_ said, averting his gaze as he handed Ryouta a huge teddy bear that had a bow on its collar. “Saw it at the gift shop downstairs but I didn’t really know what to give you so…”

 _“Oh,”_ Ryouta said as he tried not to blush. “You really didn’t have, but thank you.”

At the same time, the door opened again, this time to reveal Ibuki and her parents. Ibuki was carrying a box with both hands, humming a tune that sounded oddly familiar to Ryouta’s ears.

Until it hit him.

_Happy birthday song._

_Right._

_Sunday, huh?_

Ryouta smiled as tears formed at the corner of his eyes.

“Happy birthday, Ryouta– _chan_ ,” Ibuki said, the others quickly joining her in a chorus, as she placed the box on his lap and uncovering it to reveal a cake.

“I didn’t— I didn’t realize,” Ryouta said, trying to find words. _“Thank you.”_

“Just don’t pull this off again, Ryouta,” _Oji–san_ said, ruffling Ryouta’s hair. “You had us worried.”

“I–I’ll try,” Ryouta promised. “Sorry.”

 _Oba–san_ shook her head. “It’s not your fault, Ryouta.”

“I wanted to give you this last night, but I guess today’s also a good time,” Ibuki mumbled, giving Ryouta a gift–wrapped package. “It’s a scarf.”

“A–Ah, thanks, Ibuki,” Ryouta said. “Did you plan this?”

“Yup!” Ibuki beamed. “It was supposed to be a picnic but then…”

Kizakura– _sensei_ butted in, taking out a box of watercolors from his pocket. “Is it my turn? Happy birthday, kid. Oh yeah,” he added suddenly as he took out another thing from the same pocket. “It’s an _omamori_ for good health,” he said, pressing the _omamori_ into the palm of Ryouta’s hand. “That one’s actually from Chiaki– _chan_ , though.”

“ _Oi, Sensei!_ You’re not drunk again, are you? You reek!” Ibuki said.

“Course not! I _drove_ here,” Kizakura– _sensei_ shot back.

Everyone seemed to be having fun, chatting and bantering with each other. Ryouta was content to be just watching them. For a moment he thought this was all going to last forever.

Then he remembered.

It’s the last time he’s gonna get to celebrate his birthday. He probably won’t be here anymore on the same day next year.

_Why did he forget?_

“Ryouta– _chan_? You’re spacing out again. Are you okay?” Ibuki asked, a look of concern on her face.

“Y–Yeah,” Ryouta said, forcing a smile back. “I’m fine.”

 

The days went by, blurring into each other, and soon they turned into weeks. It was autumn, a week since he’d been brought to the hospital, and the trees outside of Ryouta’s window shifted into red and golden hues, their leaves constantly falling from the branches.

Ryouta spent the first days of the season mostly asleep, but as he gradually recovered from this latest bout of illness, bit by bit the time he spent awake also increased. It felt lonely sometimes, with Ibuki going back to school and her parents having to return to their jobs and no one to talk to until people came to visit, made worse by his father still not being here and Ryouta having to pretend he was alright with the possibility of dying before they could see each other again.

But of course, his secret would have to catch up with him eventually.

It did so one morning while Ibuki was away at school, both her parents watching Ryouta for the day after his recovery took a step backwards last night.

 _Oba–san_ seemed antsy as she watched Ryouta idly doodle on his sketchpad. _Oji–san_ on the other hands, was silently flipping through the day’s newspaper.

 “How long did you think you could keep it from us?” _Oba–san_ suddenly said, shattering the silence around the room.

The pencil in Ryouta’s hand clattered to the floor.

“I—”

Ryouta looked towards _Oji–san_ , who only shook his head in reply.

“Isha– _sensei_ told us last night. Why didn’t you say anything, Ryouta?” _Oba–san_ asked, almost pleadingly.

_Oh._

“I’m sorry,” Ryouta mumbled, looking down at his lap and trying to avoid her steely gaze.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” _Oba–san_ repeated, misty-eyed.

“I didn’t— I just— I—” Ryouta started, struggling to string his words together. “I didn’t want to be a burden,” he said finally, sobbing. “I—”

 _But you already_ are _a burden._

_Why else do you think Papa barely comes home anymore, you weak, foolish boy?_

_Weak._

_Just die already._

“Ryou!” he heard _Oji–san_ say.

Ryouta’s head snapped up, drawing in a sharp breath. His breathing sounded harsh to his ears, his heart pounding out of rhythm again. With his luck, it’s probably the beginning of another attack.

“…I’m sorry,” Ryouta said tearfully, short of breath.

“Atsushi, call a nurse. Breathe, darling,” _Oba–san_ said, gently rubbing circles on Ryouta’s back as _Oji–san_ left the room. “You’re not a burden, I promise. We just care.”

Ryouta choked back another sob. “Does— Does Ibuki know?”

“She doesn’t,” _Oba–san_ said.

“Please don’t tell her,” Ryouta pleaded, the ringing in his ears growing louder.

 _Oba–san_ shook her head. “We won’t. Not until you’re ready.”

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, that was a handful. Next chapter’s gonna be lighter, probably.


	12. Anacrusis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ibuki tries to navigate her way around school once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops.

Come Monday morning, Ibuki went back to school. Alone. She knew she should’ve been used to it, given the frequency of Ryouta– _chan_ ’s absences, but she still wasn’t.

The classroom was empty when Ibuki entered it. Kizakura– _sensei_ was nowhere to be seen, and knowing him, he was probably sleeping off a hangover in the faculty room again and won’t be here until the second or third period. How has he not been fired by the school committee yet?

Ibuki sighed.

 

The bells announcing the start of the lunch period rang out loud, waking Ibuki up. Kizakura– _sensei_ was already there, snoring on the teacher’s table with his saliva dribbling and making a pool on the stack of papers he was using as a makeshift pillow. At least Ibuki was sure those weren’t exam papers, if only because the term just started. Probably.

 _“Sensei!”_ Ibuki yelled as she grabbed her _bento_ , startling Kizakura– _sensei_ into waking up. “I’m going out for lunch!”

“Oh. Have fun, Ibuki– _chan_ ,” Kizakura– _sensei_ groggily said, waving at her from where he was still slumped over at the teacher’s table.

 

Ibuki climbed the last flight of stairs that lay between the floor where their classroom was and the rooftop. Chiaki– _chan_ must be waiting for her there already.

And she was.

“Hi, Mioda– _san_!” Chiaki– _chan_ greeted as soon as Ibuki opened the door to the rooftop landing. Why does the school never keep it locked anyway?

 _He_ was there, too, grudgingly waving at Ibuki before going back to picking at his lunch.

“Chiaki– _chan_!” Ibuki waved back at Chiaki– _chan_ , deciding to ignore _him_ as she squeezed herself into the spot between _him_ and Chiaki– _chan_.

“So, how was class?” Chiaki– _chan_ asked, moving a bit to the side to make room for Ibuki.

Ibuki shrugged as she took the cover off her _bento_. “We haven’t started yet. Kizakura– _sensei_ wasn’t there at the start of class so I went to sleep.”

“How does your class even get anything done?” _he_ muttered.

“Hinata– _kun_ …” Chiaki– _chan_ sighed.

“No, it’s fine,” Ibuki said, mouth half–full with _onigiri_. “The school lets our class do what we want, anyway. We usually get stuff done when Ryouta– _chan_ ’s around, though,” she added, looking out at the horizon.

“How is he?” Chiaki– _chan_ asked, turning to face Ibuki.

“He’ll be fine. He always turns out fine,” Ibuki replied. “Is that a hot dog octopus?”

Chiaki– _chan_ blinked. “Y–Yeah. Want some?”

“Thanks, Chiaki– _chan_ ,” Ibuki said as she reached over to Chiaki– _chan_ ’s _bento_. “You can have one of my panda fish cakes. How was _your_ class?”

“Not much,” Chiaki– _chan_ said as she thought over which fish cake to take. “Tanaka– _kun_ let his hamsters loose in the classroom again and Sato– _san_ and Kuzuryuu– _san_ were fighting.”

“So, the usual,” _he_ mumbled as he finished the last of his _onigiri_.

“That actually sounds fun,” Ibuki disagreed.

“Wait,” _he_ said. “Can I ask a question?”

“Shoot,” Ibuki said.

“None of you ever explained to me why Mitarai’s in the hospital.”

_Oh._

_What?_

“Ryouta– _chan_ never told you?” Ibuki asked.

 _He_ shook his head. “No?”

“That’s Ryouta– _chan_ for you,” Ibuki sighed. “Heart problem. He’s had it since birth. It’s the reason he’s in special ed,” she continued, each word taking a lot of effort for her to say.

“ _Huh._ Sorry I asked,” he said, sounding sincere this time.

“It’s fine,” Ibuki shrugged.

The breeze picked up, scattering some of the loose papers around them and ending up lifting their skirts.

“Why doesn’t this rooftop have safety nets, anyway?” Ibuki screeched as she tried to keep the hem of her skirt down.

“ _Oyaji_ said the school committee’s been making budget cuts again,” Chiaki– _chan_ casually said, holding her own skirt down with one hand.

“Seriously?” Ibuki and _that guy_ groaned at the same time.

“Eh.”

 

Kizakura– _sensei_ was surprisingly already prepared to start the lesson by the time Ibuki got back from lunch, and the papers he was using as a pillow that morning neatly stacked up again in a corner of the teacher’s table.

“Yo, Ibuki– _chan_!” Kizakura– _sensei_ greeted without turning around from writing the lesson on the chalkboard as Ibuki went through the door. “How was lunch?”

Ibuki put on a smile. “It was fine, _sensei_ ,” she said as she took her seat.

The desk beside her was still empty. Of course it was.

“ _Oi_ , are you paying attention, Ibuki– _chan_?” Kizakura– _sensei_ asked, tapping sharply on Ibuki’s desk with the hardbound book in his hand. “We already wasted half a day, you know.”

“And whose fault is that, _sensei_?” Ibuki countered.

Kizakura– _sensei_ sighed, throwing his hands up in the air. “Okay fine, it’s my fault. But _please_ , pay attention.”

 “Yes, _sensei_ ,” Ibuki replied, her cheeks puffed out.

 

After cleanup, Ibuki was walking down the stairs, listening to music with her headphones and already resigned to the fact that she’ll have to go home alone, when she noticed a pair of shadows following her.

Ibuki took off her headphones and turned around.

“Told you she’d notice,” _that guy_ said.

“Hi, Mioda– _san_ ,” Chiaki– _chan_ greeted sheepishly as she elbowed _him_ in the ribs.

“C–Chiaki– _chan_? W–What are you doing?” Ibuki stuttered out in surprise.

Great, she was starting to sound like Ryouta– _chan_.

“She wanted to walk home with you and dragged me along,” _he_ replied.

“Y–Yeah, that’s it,” Chiaki– _chan_ chimed in, nodding.

“Oh, uhm, is that so?” Ibuki asked. “I was gonna go visit Ryouta– _chan_ first though.”

“It’s fine, Mioda– _san_. We can all go together,” Chiaki– _chan_ said. “ _Oyaji_ doesn’t get home until seven so I don’t have to make dinner yet.”

“Yeah, I guess I’ll go, too,” _he_ said. “I don’t have anything else better to do, anyway.”

 

On second thought, maybe they should’ve just taken the bus instead. The road that led to the hospital was long and winding, and it was too early into autumn that it was still too hot to enjoy afternoon walks.

At least Ibuki wasn’t alone now and had actually someone to talk to and share the pretty autumn sky the same color as the treetops with while walking there.

 _Chiaki–_ chan _looks really cute in this light, doesn’t she?_

“Hm? Is something wrong, Mioda– _san_?” Chiaki– _chan_ asked, looking at Ibuki.

 _“N–Nothing!”_ Ibuki said, frantically shaking her head.

Chiaki– _chan_ looked like she was thinking it over. “Oh, okay,” she said finally.

 

Ryouta– _chan_ was sleeping when Ibuki got to his room, wrapped in that blue flannel blanket he’s had for so long which _Kaa–chan_ brought over from his house yesterday. Sometimes Ibuki felt like it was the only thing Ryouta– _chan_ can do these days. He looked worse than he did yesterday, something Ibuki didn’t think could be possible, his hair lanky from not being washed in days and face pale with a cannula obscuring his nostrils when Ibuki knew he was already supposed to be off oxygen support yesterday.

Ryouta– _chan_ shifted in his sleep, sighing, and a second later, his eyelids fluttered open and looked around the room with those big hazel eyes until he found them near the doorway.

“Hi,” Ryouta– _chan_ breathed out. “Why are you guys here?”

“Hey, Ryouta– _chan_ ,” Ibuki said, putting on a grin. “Thought I’d drop by. They’re just tagging along,” she added, gesturing wildly at Chiaki– _chan_ and _that guy_.

“You didn’t have to bother,” Ryouta– _chan_ said, blinking slowly as he reached for his glasses on the bedside table.

“Nah, Kizakura– _sensei_ also asked me to give you your homework, so…” Ibuki said with a sheepish smile as she raised her schoolbag to her face to show him.

Ryouta– _chan_ scrunched up his face at the mention of homework. “Oh. What’s it about?”

“I have no idea, I slept through it,” Ibuki admitted with a shrug.

“Maybe Hinata– _kun_ can help?” Chiaki– _chan_ suggested.

“Stop volunteering me like this,” _that guy_ groaned. “But yeah, I guess I can. You weren’t paying attention in class either, Nanami.”

Chiaki– _chan_ giggled. “Sorry.”

 

“You just have to change the tangent into sine over cosine first to prove the equation, how is that so hard?” _he_ groaned, circling the equation. “ _Oi_ , Nanami, are you even paying attention?”

“Huh, what?” Chiaki– _chan_ said, looking up from her game boy. “Oh, yeah.”

“Wait, where did the tangent come from?” Ibuki asked.

“It’s in the _given_ , Mioda. _And_ Mitarai’s dozing off. _Of course._ I give up, you’re all hopeless,” _he_ said, throwing his hands in the air exasperatedly.

“Sorry. I wasn’t dozing off,” Ryouta– _chan_ said even as he’s blinking his eyes blearily.

“It _is_ getting late, though,” Chiaki– _chan_ pointed out. “We should probably go home and let him rest.”

“ _Shit_ , you’re right. I forgot to pick up Sayaka from the recording studio. She’s gonna kill me,” _he_ said, grabbing his bag and running for the door. “See you.”

“Sorry about that,” Chiaki– _chan_ smiled apologetically at them. “I should go, too. Bye, Mioda– _san_ , Mitarai– _kun_ ,” she said as she headed out, waving her hand.

“Bye, Chiaki– _chan_!” Ibuki waved back.

“You like her, don’t you?” Ryouta– _chan_ asked the minute Chiaki– _chan_ was out of sight.

Ibuki’s face reddened immediately as she denied it. _“W–What?! N–No!”_

Ryouta– _chan_ just continued to stare at her expectantly.

“Uhm…” Ibuki said, twirling a stray strand of hair with her fingers.

Ryouta– _chan_ ’s expression immediately turned into a triumphant smile. “Knew it. You’re acting the same way you did when you had a crush on that girl in middle school.”

 _“Hey, not fair!_ You _had a crush on her, too!”_ Ibuki screeched, leaping onto the edge of the bed to sit closer to him, but made him wince instead. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Ryouta– _chan_ , smiling as he assured her.

“Maybe I should go home,” Ibuki said as she started to get up from the bed.

“N–No, I— C–Could you… please stay?” Ryouta– _chan_ asked, fidgeting with the blanket.

Ibuki blinked. “Why?”

“I just… I have to tell you something,” he said, sounding serious.

Ibuki sat back down, dreading it for some reason. “What is it?”

“I— Uhm—” Ryouta– _chan_ bit his lower lip. “Never mind.”

Ibuki decided to press it. “Ryouta– _chan_?”

“S–Sorry, don’t mind me,” Ryouta– _chan_ said, shaking his head.

“What happened there?” Ibuki asked, miming the cannula.

“Don’t ask,” Ryouta– _chan_ said flatly.

“Okay.”

“ _Oba–san_ told me Papa went home today,” Ryouta– _chan_ said after a minute of silence.

“That sounds great!” Ibuki said. “Did you see him yet?”

“I don’t—” Ryouta– _chan_ ’s breathing hitched, curling up into a ball and hiding his face behind his legs. “I don’t think he wants to see me.”

Ibuki furrowed her eyebrows. “Was that what you wanted to talk about?”

“Y–Yeah, that was it. Sorry,” Ryouta– _chan_ sighed, unable to meet Ibuki’s eyes.

Ibuki shook her head. “Don’t be.”

“Stay?” Ryouta– _chan_ asked, looking like he was trying his best to keep his eyes open and fully knowing she’d stay until he falls asleep anyway.

Ibuki squeezed his hand, watching him as he gave in to exhaustion, his breathing gradually evening out into a shallow rise and fall instead of the sharp desperate gasps while the worried creases constantly on his face in every waking moment smoothed away.

The blanket was bunched around Ryouta– _chan_ ’s lap. Ibuki pulled it over his shoulders, smiling. His glasses that rested awkwardly on his face she pulled off and placed on top of the bedside table before it could tangle with the plastic tubing of the cannula.

“See you tomorrow,” Ibuki whispered, looking at Ryouta– _chan_ again before forcing herself out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure, I split up this chapter. The second part’s next week. Bye!


	13. Facile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are exactly two things to be thankful for right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [insert surprise bitch gif here]

“I–I can live alone, really,” Ryouta said as the car pulled up on the side of the road that lay between his house and the Miodas’. “You don’t have to bother putting up with me.”

“Don’t be silly, Ryouta,” _Oba–san_ said, turning her head slightly to look at Ryouta from the front passenger seat. “You can barely walk without your legs wobbling like jelly.”

Ryouta blushed, opening his mouth to protest. “I–I—”

“It’s _fine_. Besides, someone needs to look after you while you’re recovering.”

Ryouta gave Ibuki a pleading look.

Ibuki replied with a shrug. “She’s right, you know.”

Ryouta groaned, leaning back into his seat.

 

“Well?” _Oba–san_ said as she wheeled Ryouta into the guest room. “It’s not as big as the other rooms or your own one at your house, but it’s the only one we have on the first floor, so…”

Ryouta shook his head. “It’s okay, _Oba–san_. Uhm. You really didn’t have to.”

“This again, Ryouta?” _Oba–san_ sighed. “I told you, we all want you here.”

“I just— I don’t— Why are you doing this for me?” Ryouta asked, picking at the lint on the fabric of his shirt as he tried to find the right words.

 _Oba–san_ sat on the floor in front of Ryouta, cupping Ryouta’s head gently in one hand so he would face her. “Is it so hard to accept that we care about you?”

Ryouta bit his lip, still not looking at her.

“You look just like your mother,” _Oba–san_ sighed, brushing her hand through Ryouta’s hair. “I promised her I’d take care of you, you know.”

“I’m sorry,” Ryouta whispered.

“You really have to learn to stop saying that,” _Oba–san_ said, patting Ryouta’s cheek before clearing her throat. “Well, you need to rest. Can you manage getting on the bed on your own or do you need me to help you?” she asked, standing up and dusting the ends of her skirt.

Ryouta blinked, nodding. “I can— I can manage,” he said as he slowly pushed himself up from the wheelchair to prove his point.

“I’ll be going, then,” _Oba–san_ said, smiling before she turned to leave the room. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Um, _Oba–san_?” Ryouta said just before _Oba–san_ opened the door.

“Yes, Ryouta?”

“C–Could I go home later?” Ryouta asked. “I–I’m just gonna get my stuff. And check on Lune. I promise it won’t take long,” he added hastily when he saw her frown.

“Alright,” _Oba–san_ agreed, finally. “Just be careful and come back as soon as you’re done. Bring Lune here, too. We only didn’t because you know he refuses being carried by anyone but you.”

Ryouta nodded. “Thank you, _Oba–san_.”

 

The house didn’t look like someone else had lived here during the month Ryouta was at the hospital. Except for the things the Miodas brought over, everything was as Ryouta had left them. Did he just make up the fact that his father went home?

Lune bounded up to Ryouta. The sound of the wind chimes when Ryouta opened the door must have woken him up. Ryouta absentmindedly let Lune sniff his fingers as he continued to look around the living room before scratching his chin.

“I’m fine, Lune,” Ryouta said. Even to his own ears, it sounded like a lie. “Do you think Papa left something for me?”

Lune meowed back at him before darting back to the kitchen.

 

There’s a note tacked on to the door of the fridge where Lune was currently sitting in front of, looking so pleased with himself. Ryouta’s breath caught in his chest as he approached, and with shaking hands carefully removed the piece of paper from the fridge door.

 _He still cares_ , Ryouta thought as he read over the note, eyes swiftly blurring with tears. _He still does._

Lune meowed at him again.

“You did good, Lune,” Ryouta said as he swallowed back a lump in his throat and wiped at his eyes with his sleeve. “You did good.”

 

“Why are we doing this again?” Hinata– _san_ asked as he dumped another bag of _washi_ on the coffee table in the Miodas’ living room.

“ _Oyaji_ ’s birthday is coming up,” Nanami– _san_ replied, looking up from the paper she was folding into a lily. “And Mitarai– _kun_ ’s been given permission to go back to school so Mioda– _san_ and I decided we should celebrate.”

“Stop complaining, Master, and just help us with this,” Ibuki added as she continued to cut a piece of paper into little triangles. “Right, Ryouta– _chan_?”

“I don’t— I don’t really mind. It doesn’t even have to be for me,” Ryouta said, smiling apologetically as he paused from the sketch he was working on. “We could just do it for Kizakura– _sensei_.”

“You don’t really have to be here if you don’t want to be, Hinata– _kun_ ,” Nanami– _san_ said sagely.

Ibuki had an impish smile as she spoke. “Yeah, _Master_ , you can leave if you want to. It’s not as if we need you.”

 _“Why you—”_ Hinata– _san_ exclaimed, jumping up from his seat.

 _No,_ Ryouta thought as he tuned out their bickering with a wry smile. _It’s me you don’t need anymore, Ibuki._

Ryouta sighed, shaking his head.

“Ryouta– _chan_?” Ibuki said, looking away from the staring match she’s having with Hinata– _san_. “You okay?”

“I… uh,” Ryouta blinked, clearing his throat. “I’m fine. I’m just gonna… go to my room and rest. Sorry.”

“Need me to wheel you?” Ibuki asked again, face scrunched up in worry.

Ryouta shook his head. “I’m fine, I can manage. Besides, the last time I let you do that, we nearly crashed into poor Lune.”

Ibuki pouted.

_You don’t have to bother worrying about me anymore, Ibuki._

 

 _“Surprise!”_ Everyone yelled at the top of their lungs the minute Kizakura– _sensei_ slid open the door to their classroom.

“Chiaki– _chan_ ,” Kizakura– _sensei_ said, scratching his head even as a smile was beginning to form on his lips. “Did you plan this?”

Nanami– _san_ giggled as she stopped throwing confetti and approached Kizakura– _sensei_ sheepishly. “Sorry, _Oyaji_. I know you don’t really like celebrating your birthday.”

“Ibuki helped,” Ibuki shouted by Ryouta’s side, making him wince and cover his ears by how high–pitched her voice was.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Kizakura– _sensei_ said, ruffling Nanami– _san_ ’s hair. She was still giggling, probably in embarrassment this time, but was making no attempt to swat away his hand. “Oi, Mitarai– _kun_! You’re back!” Kizakura–­ _sensei_ continued when he finally noticed Ryouta’s presence. “How did you manage to climb up six flights of stairs?”

“ _Very_ carefully,” Ryouta replied. The less said about what happened this morning, the better.

“Can we eat now?” Hinata– _san_ complained from near the window.

“ _Kaa–chan_ made them, _sensei_ ,” Ibuki grinned as she announced it and uncovered all the containers on a mad dash.

Did Ryouta just imagine it, or did Kizakura– _sensei_ look like he was gulping?

Kizakura– _sensei_ hesitated. “That’s…uh. That sounds nice, Ibuki– _chan_.”

“Ryouta– _chan_ , you’re staring,” Ibuki said, eyeing him suspiciously again. “Aren’t you going to join us?”

Ryouta forced on a smile. “S–Sorry, I’ll be right there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, the only thing I’m sorry about right now is how long it took to write this. Whoops.
> 
> Also this is actually the last Ryou chapter before August 15 happens. Just throwing it out there.


	14. Senza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ibuki celebrates her birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this late? Probably.

Ibuki’s already awake even before her alarm started ringing. It’s the earliest she’s woken up on her own in a while, but strangely enough, Ibuki felt none of her early morning grouchiness today. Maybe it was because it’s Ibuki’s birthday. Ibuki grinned, throwing back her covers just as her alarm finally rang. Who’s late now, Mr. Clock?

 

Ibuki sent the door flying and winced as it hit the adjacent wall with a resounding thud. Out jumped Lune, his icy blue eyes staring into Ibuki’s soul as if she’d just committed a mortal sin.

“Sorry,” Ibuki said sheepishly, reaching down to pet Lune’s fur. Lune only glared at her harder, stalking away before Ibuki could grab a hold of him.

 _What’s up with him today?_ Ibuki wondered, staring after Lune as she straightened herself out before turning towards the doorway again.

“Ryou—”

“Shh! _Ibuki!_ ”

Ibuki instantly shut her mouth and blinked. “ _Kaa–chan_ , what…?” she asked, in a lower volume this time.

 _Kaa–chan_ moved her finger away from her lips, breathing out a sigh of relief. “He’s only just fallen asleep, don’t wake him up,” she said, fixing her gaze to Ryouta– _chan_ ’s sleeping form, tucked in beneath his blanket. _Kaa–chan_ brushed away a stray wisp of his hair before getting up from her chair and walking towards Ibuki.

“What happened?” Ibuki asked, chewing at her lip as her eyes darted back and forth between _Kaa–chan_ and Ryouta– _chan_.

“Don’t ask,” _Kaa–chan_ said with a pointed look then yawned, unable to contain it any longer, and just as suddenly straightened up again as if struck by lightning, her eyes widening. “ _Shi— Shoot!_ I forgot to make your birthday breakfast.”

Ibuki tried not to pout as she shook her head. _Kaa–chan_ never forgot about Ibuki’s birthday breakfast before. “I don’t mind, _Kaa–chan_ ,” Ibuki said, trying to keep her voice sound neutral. “We’ll just grab some food on our way to the arcade later.” She tried not to look up, certain that if she did, _Kaa–chan_ would be able to tell how she actually felt.

“Nonsense. I’ll have it ready before the hour’s out. You deserve only the best today. Happy sixteenth,” _Kaa–chan_ said, planting a kiss on Ibuki’s forehead before heading to the kitchen.

Ibuki managed a small smile.

 

The doorbell rang, making Ibuki look up from her plate. She’d been pushing around the cut–up pieces of pancake with her fork, not really feeling all that interested in eating right now.

“I’ll get it,” _Kaa–chan_ said, taking off her apron before heading for the door. “Finish your breakfast.”

“Yes, _Kaa–chan_ ,” Ibuki muttered with a short glance at the guest room door.

The living room wasn’t so far from the kitchen that Ibuki could still overhear what was going on. Pleasantries exchanged, the sound of footwear being scuffled off, and finally the soft padding of slipper–wearing feet on the cold, tiled floor of their house.

“That’s… not a cat,” said a familiar voice from the living room.

Ibuki smirked, letting her fork clatter to the side of the plate as she swung her legs over to one side and stood up. So he’s here as well.

“That’s just Lune, _Master_ ,” Ibuki greeted the minute she was in their sight, savoring the way Hinata groaned at the mock title. “I told you he’s not just a cat. Right, Lune?” she asked in a sing–song voice as she scratched the back of Lune’s ear.

Lune, sleeping on the sofa, opened an eye to acknowledge the pat then immediately closed it again.

“Why is he so big?” Chiaki– _chan_ asked, joining Ibuki in petting the stubborn old cat by rubbing at his exposed belly.

“Ryouta– _chan_ says he’s a…” Ibuki paused mid–scratch. “Me… _Maine Coon!_ Right, that was it. Maine Coons are supposed to be really big, he said.”

Lune opened his eyes again, probably catching on to the fact that he was now the topic of conversation, saw that Ibuki wasn’t the only one petting him anymore, and so tried to bat his paw at both of their hands before jumping off the sofa and walked away again.

“I _might_ have forgot to tell you Lune doesn’t really like people petting him,” Ibuki said, sheepishly smiling as she rubbed the back of her head. “Well, except for Ryouta– _chan_.”

“Where _is_ Mitarai– _kun_ , anyway?” Chiaki– _chan_ asked, frowning at Lune’s tail that just disappeared around the corner.

Ibuki shrugged. “Sleeping. He’s not coming today.”

“Oh. Well…” Chiaki– _chan_ trailed off.

Hinata cleared his throat.

Ibuki turned to look at him, already smirking. “Ready for a rematch, _Master_?”

Hinata snorted in reply. “As if you’ll ever win.”

 

_He’s right. He’s always right._

It’s the last round. Ibuki should be winning, this was _her_ song, she had the previous high score in this console, but Hinata hasn’t miss a single beat _at all._ Ibuki on the other hand, had already missed at least one because of her own carelessness. Where did all her focus go?

That’s the last trill. Ibuki met Hinata’s eyes, daring him to go and get a perfect score.

It dropped.

Ibuki let go of the note a second too early in her excitement. Hinata didn’t.

Ibuki clenched her jaw, not even looking up at the scoreboard. She already knew what it was going to say. She lost again.

Someone was clapping behind them, though. Ibuki blinked, transported back to that spring day, Ryouta– _chan_ behind her clapping at each of her easy wins at their class booth.

If Ibuki turned around now, she’d break the spell. Or maybe, just maybe, it _was_ Ryouta– _chan_ clapping behind them right now, caught up with them and completely healthy again.

Ibuki took a deep breath, and turned around.

It’s not him. Of course it isn’t. Why would he be here? Instead, it’s Chiaki– _chan_ , clapping like she hasn’t seen Ibuki and Hinata play another rematch a dozen times over the past few months. In any other day, Ibuki would be blushing over her enthusiasm. But not today. She just wasn’t in the mood. Still, Ibuki tried to smile at her.

“So you won again, _Master,_ ” Ibuki muttered.

Hinata shrugged. “Yeah, I guess I did. And how many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me Master?”

“Not enough,” Ibuki cheerfully replied.

 _We both know I’ll only stop calling you that when_ I _win._

“Want another round?” Ibuki asked even as she was already inputting new settings on the console.

Hinata’s phone started ringing, which was quickly followed by his startled swearing, making Ibuki and Chiaki– _chan_ laugh and Hinata himself blush.

“Yeah, that’s probably Sayaka. I’m gonna have to go and pick her up,” Hinata said when he recovered. “Oh, uh, happy birthday, I guess,” he added as an afterthought. “Let’s have that rematch next time.”

“Uh, thanks?” Ibuki said. _So he actually knows what today is._ “Bye, Master.”

Hinata sighed a long–suffering sigh and headed for the exit, hand raised and waving but he wasn’t looking back at them.

“You shouldn’t tease him so much, Mioda– _san_ ,” Chiaki– _chan_ said once Hinata was out of sight.

Ibuki shrugged, smiling. “He makes it too easy. Chiaki– _chan_ , do you want to play this game with me or do you want to do something else?”

Chiaki– _chan_ thought for a second before replying. “Let’s go play something else. I heard this arcade installed a new game a few days ago,” she said, taking Ibuki’s hand to lead her to the game she wanted.

Ibuki blushed.

 

Ibuki and Chiaki– _chan_ spent the rest of the time before lunch playing a zombie shooting game, but honestly, Ibuki wasn’t really paying attention to it. Her finger was pulling on the trigger without her even looking at the screen. Chiaki– _chan_ had to call her Ibuki’s attention back to the game a few times. Her mind was somewhere else. _Kaa–chan_ would call her if anything else happened, right?

There’s a café right across the arcade, and that’s where they chose to have their lunch. _Tou–chan_ gave Ibuki some pocket money yesterday, so she decided to treat Chiaki– _chan_ instead of letting her pay for her own food despite Chiaki– _chan_ ’s protests.

Chiaki– _chan_ decided to have a club sandwich. For herself, Ibuki chose one of their gigantic choco chip cookies and got both of them the café’s mega milkshakes that have scoops of ice cream on top.

“Mioda– _san_?” Chiaki– _chan_ asked when the server left to get their orders. “Is something wrong?”

“Hm? No? Why, Chiaki– _chan_?” Ibuki said, eyeing the macarons the café had on the display shelf near the counter. Would Ryouta– _chan_ like those?

“Because you’ve been distracted all day and the way you shot those zombies was terrifying,” Chiaki– _chan_ replied. “It’s Mitarai– _kun_ , isn’t it?”

Ibuki sighed, shaking her head. “It’s just… I don’t remember ever celebrating a birthday without him. He’s always been there until today.”

Chiaki– _chan_ placed her hand above Ibuki’s on the table. “I’m sure he’d try to make it up to you. It’s not his fault.”

“I don’t know,” Ibuki said, biting at her lip. “It’s like he’s been trying to avoid me since August. Did I do something wrong?”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not your fault either, Mioda– _san_.” Chiaki– _chan_ shook her head. “Have you tried talking to Mitarai– _kun_ about it?”

“Yeah,” was Ibuki’s swift reply. “But every time I try to ask Ryouta– _chan_ what’s wrong, he either tells me he’s tired or that it’s nothing. There’s something he’s not telling me. He’s never done that before,” she continued, sniffling.

“Give him time,” Chiaki– _chan_ said with a reassuring smile. “He’ll tell you eventually, I’m sure.”

Ibuki wiped at her face with the sleeve of her knitted sweater. “I hope so. Oh, our food’s here, Chiaki– _chan_.”

“Uh Mioda– _san_?” Chiaki– _chan_ asked when their food was placed on the table, staring at Ibuki’s plate. “Are you sure that’s enough for your lunch?”

Ibuki nodded, grabbing at the cookie with both hands before taking a large bite out of it. “Yeah, it is. It’s my birthday, anyway.”

 

Ibuki hummed as she turned the key to the door of their house, her other hand full of the birthday gifts from Chiaki– _chan_ and Hinata and the macarons from the café. Today was fun, at least.

“Ibuki? Is that you?” _Kaa–chan_ asked, probably from the kitchen.

“Yeah!” Ibuki replied cheerfully as she dropped the gifts on the coffee table, leaving only the box of macarons in her arm, before running towards the kitchen.

“How was it?” _Kaa–chan_ asked, looking up from the stove.

Ibuki shrugged, sitting down on the dining table where she placed the macaron box as a centerpiece. “Ehh, I lost again. But it _was_ fun, _Kaa–chan_! Where’s Ryouta– _chan_?” she asked as she craned her neck to look for him.

“He’s still sleeping,” _Kaa–chan_ replied as she turned off the stove and removed the pan from it.

A chill passed through Ibuki’s spine. “ _Still_ sleeping? Is he okay? Shouldn’t we take him to the hospital already?”

“He’s fine, he’s fine,” _Kaa–chan_ insisted as she transferred the contents of the pan, pasta, Ibuki guessed, into a large plate. “And he woke up for a bit while you were out and told me himself it’s not necessary.”

“Is that so?” Ibuki murmured, biting at her lip again as she slouched on her chair. “And _Tou–chan_?”

“He’s coming in a bit, he just got stuck in traffic. You know he wouldn’t miss your birthday dinner for the world,” _Kaa–chan_ said, sitting down across from Ibuki.

 _That’s what I thought about Ryouta–_ chan _either._

 “Oh!” _Kaa–chan_ exclaimed suddenly as she remembered something and rummaged the pocket of her apron. “I just remembered, Ryouta also told me to give you this,” she said, finally producing a carefully folded piece of paper from her pocket and placing it in Ibuki’s hand.

Ibuki looked at her mother for a moment before nodding and unfolding the paper.

It’s a pencil sketch of Ibuki herself, smiling broadly and wearing her favorite horned headband that she can’t always wear while in class. Ryouta– _chan_ must have done it from memory, Ibuki knew she didn’t have any photos with her looking like this.

Ibuki smiled as her eyes began to tear up. “Thanks, _Kaa–chan_ ,” she said, her voice shaking.

 _Kaa–chan_ patted Ibuki’s head. “Don’t thank me, I’m just the messenger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, let me explain why I didn’t update for six months. In order, my laptop died, I got sick for a while (am I fine now? probably), and uni happened. Sorry.


	15. Ostinato

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hajime still doesn’t know anything. But he’s learning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why am I writing Christmas in July?

_Do you really want to do this?_

_Are you actually ready for the suffering this will cause you?_

_“Nii–san?”_ Sayaka shouted from the end of the staircase. “Are you taking me or not?”

Hajime groaned, rolling over so he’s lying down on his back and staring up at the ceiling. He was definitely going to regret this.

 _“I’m coming!”_ Hajime shouted back as he pushed himself off the bed. Hajime ran a comb through his hair again, a stubborn lock of it still sticking up despite his best efforts, and tugged at the hems of his blazer to straighten it out before leaving the room. Why they still had to wear their school uniforms for a Christmas party, Hajime did not want to know.

 

Sayaka was still waiting at the base of the stairs by the time Hajime got there, tapping a foot against the next highest step, arms crossed against her chest and wearing a frown on her face and a ridiculously large snapback on her head.

Hajime raised an eyebrow.

“Why do you even want to come with me to school, anyway?” Hajime asked as he fixed Sayaka’s scarf. She’s fourteen, why can’t she still tie it properly?

“I’m going to be in high school next year, _Nii–san_ ,” Sayaka replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world, swatting away at Hajime’s hand. “I _do_ need to start looking for schools already.”

Hajime resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Today? _Really?”_

 _“What?_ I want to meet your friends.”

 _And that’s_ exactly _why I don’t want to bring you with me._

“Fine¸ but _behave_ ,” Hajime said, emphasizing the last word by knotting the scarf around Sayaka’s neck just tightly enough to annoy her.

“I promise,” Sayaka said in a sing–song voice, raising her right hand like she was swearing an oath.

At least she didn’t attempt a pinky promise this time.

Hajime sighed some more.

 

Kizakura– _sensei_ and Nanami were already waiting for the both of them in Kizakura– _sensei_ ’s battered old car when Hajime and Sayaka rounded the corner where their street merged with the main road. Hajime was surprised. True, their houses weren’t that far apart that he and Nanami walk to school together sometimes, but Kizakura– _sensei_ rarely joined them.

While Hajime was thinking about this, Nanami had already opened the door to the backseat and moved to the corner to make room.

“Hinata– _kun_ , are you waiting for something?” Nanami asked when he didn’t immediately get in, her eyes glued back to her game console again.

“Maybe _Nii–san_ wants to walk,” Sayaka said teasingly as she jumped into the car next to Nanami. “We should let him, _sensei_.”

Hajime shook his head, annoyed, and got in the car. Little sisters are too annoying sometimes.

“You’re not in uniform, Nanami?” Hajime asked.

Nanami was wearing a cat–themed hooded jacket on top of a white blouse that had a collar. It’s almost long enough to cover her short skirt. Definitely not the school uniform. The only thing she’s wearing that’s already a part of what Hajime’s used to seeing is the hairclip shaped like a spaceship from _Gala Omega_ that she used to keep her hair out of her face.

Nanami looked up, confused. “The headmaster finally said we could last night. Didn’t I forward you the memo?”

Hajime kept his eyelids from twitching as he sighed. “You didn’t.”

“Oh,” Nanami said, returning to her game. “Sorry.”

 

This was stupid.

Hajime was still staring at the… _thing_ in his hand. Seriously, what was this supposed to be? Where the fuck did Kuzuryuu even get a _tumbleweed_? Secret Santas are supposed to be fun, not disappointing.

Heh, _Santa_. Now _there’s_ the reason why Santa– _sensei_ refused to call it anything other than gift exchanging. Hajime refused to open the card that came with the tumbleweed. He really didn’t want to know what Kuzuryuu wrote in it. When will she get over the fact that he’s the top student in their class and not her?

No, that’s not really fair to her. She tried her best to beat him every term since the first time they’ve been placed in the same class. With Hajime, it just happens naturally. He doesn’t even know how, just that he could top every exam in a breeze. Still, the tumbleweed and the card are just a bit too much, but at least it wasn’t Hanamura who picked him.

Nanami and Sayaka were walking ahead of him. Hajime can’t hear what they’re talking about, but by their giggles and occasional glances at his direction, it’s probably about him. Nanami had been planning for them to go join the special ed class in their own Christmas party after their own class’ party had finished. It’s almost five o’clock now. If it wasn’t for the fact that he already knew the class was having dinner at a restaurant instead of a party during the day like the rest of the classes, Hajime would have thought they’d also be done by now.

“Where’s Kizakura– _sensei_ anyway?” Hajime asked as he tucked away the tumbleweed into his pocket. “Isn’t he going to pick us up?”

Nanami shrugged. “ _Oyaji_ went to pick up his students a while ago so he’s not here.”

“You mean we’re gonna walk?” Hajime said, internally groaning. _Of course._

“It’s not that far,” Nanami replied, still oblivious.

 

Okay, this was actually nice. Hajime just wished he’d dressed nicer if he’d known they’d be eating out in a place _this_ fancy.

Eh, Hajime shrugged. It’s still a ramen place even if everything on the menu’s expensive.

Their table was next to the restaurant’s window. Kizakura– _sensei_ was sitting across the able from his students, while Mioda was currently trying to coax a reaction out of Mitarai by talking his ear off. Hajime could hear her even from the entrance, which is how he spotted them in the first place.

“—come next week, _Kaa–chan_ wouldn’t let me go alone o— _Chiaki–chan!_ ” Mioda broke off when she spotted them entering, calling Nanami with a shrill voice that made Hajime wince and waving at them with a grin.

Mitarai also turned to face them, smiling apologetically before looking away again. Kizakura– _sensei_ stood up to meet them, but he was barely two steps away from the table when Mioda ran towards them instead, chair clattering as she caught Nanami in a tight hug which she reciprocated.

“Oh, Master _finally_ brought his sister with him,” Mioda said when she noticed Sayaka standing beside them.

Sayaka was now looking at him. “Master?”

 _“Don’t. Ask,”_ Hajime gritted through his teeth.

Sayaka raised her eyebrows. “Okay.”

 

Yeah, this sucked. Once Mioda started offhandedly mentioning her taste in music (or at least what she calls one, Hajime had never enjoyed her type of music, thank you very much), she and Sayaka instantly clicked. The worst part was that he was sandwiched between the two of them during dinner so everything they’ve been shouting at each other across the table was an attempt to pierce his eardrums.

Mitarai seemed to be just as uncomfortable as Hajime was, as he kept his head down for the entirety of the dinner and kept on occasionally glancing at the door whenever he thought no one was looking at him.

Kizakura– _sensei_ , on the other hand, kept on nodding off on his bowl. Exams just finished, so maybe he’s been pulling all–nighters. Or maybe he just drank too much at the faculty party and was now sleeping off a hangover.

_And they let him drive._

_Gods_ , Hajime felt like he’s just being used as a chaperone for a girls’ night out.

“Hinata– _kun_ , what do you think?” Nanami asked him with a smile.

“Huh? What?” Hajime may have not been paying attention.

“I asked if we should all go to the temple with you for your birthday,” Nanami replied, pouting at him. “The forecast says that the weather’s going to be nice, so maybe we should have a picnic?”

“Sure, whatever,” Hajime mumbled as he tried again to pick a piece of boiled egg that kept slipping away from his chopsticks.

Truth be told, Hajime hasn’t really celebrated his birthday in years, so he doesn’t care how he’d spend it this year. Well, technically next year. Having a birthday on the first day of the year was inconvenient.

“She gave me a rabbit. _A rabbit!_ What am I supposed to do with a _rabbit_?” Hajime complained.

Said rabbit was currently sitting in a cage behind him, its beady eyes staring at his back while sniffing the air. The reflection of it on his monitor screen creeped Hajime out a bit.

“Maybe Sayaka– _san_ thought you needed the company?” Mitarai typed back after a while.

“Easy for you to say,” Hajime muttered under his breath, but not actually sending it.

Ever since Mitarai begged Hajime to teach him how to play the games Mioda liked (though why he couldn’t just ask Mioda herself, Hajime can’t figure out), they’ve also started using a chat app to talk to each other in–game. Mitarai doesn’t really share much about himself during their late night chats, but from what Hajime pieced together, _well_. Honestly, _wow_ , this kid’s life was _sad_.

Hajime sighed, typing out something else instead. “How was _your_ Christmas, anyway?”

“Fine, I guess? Papa sent me a box but I haven’t opened it yet,” Mitarai replied after five minutes or so. How bad was it actually that he had to think of an answer for that long?

“You okay?” Hajime asked.

More pauses. “Just sleepy, sorry.”

Time to change the subject before this takes a dark turn. _Again._

Hajime stretched his fingers first before typing. “You going to Nanami’s picnic next week?”

It’s not _his_ picnic, no matter what Nanami said. He didn’t plan it, she did. Hajime twiddled his fingers along the keyboard, waiting for a reply.

There was nothing response, not even a little blurb that said he was typing and erasing a reply. Hajime ended up waiting an hour before typing again, switching to single player mode in the meantime.

“Still there?” Hajime tried again when he cleared a few levels.

Nope, still nothing.

He probably fell asleep already. Oh well. It’s late anyway. Maybe Hajime should sleep too.

 

Of all the times Hajime wanted to be proven wrong, this was definitely not one of them.

Nanami woke him up with a call at six, barely even, _fuck_ , three hours since he fell asleep in front of his computer. Maybe Hajime should have guessed this was going to happen. Hajime had always fallen asleep first whenever he and Mitarai were talking late.

It’s eight. Nanami was already waiting for him at the usual corner of the street when Hajime finally managed to leave the house, still hurriedly tying his scarf with shaking hands, after a quick shower and being coerced by his mother to at least have some breakfast first. Nanami wasn’t playing with a console right now. Hajime didn’t think that was possible. Instead, she was rubbing her hands together and blowing air at them to warm them up. Why wasn’t she wearing gloves?

“ _Oyaji_ can’t drive us, he can barely keep his eyes open right now, sorry,” Nanami said without looking up.

“It’s fine, we can walk,” Hajime replied, not really looking at her either.

_We both need the time to think, too._

 

“Nanami,” Hajime said, breaking the tense silence that persisted the entire time they’ve been walking together now that they’re finally in the hospital corridor. “Do you know what—?”

 _“No,”_ Nanami immediately said. “Mioda– _san_ just called me last night while crying and she didn’t explain.”

_Just like last time, huh?_

Except this time Hajime knew why Mitarai was here.

“It’s here, Hinata– _kun_ ,” Nanami said, stopping in front of a door to one of the private rooms. They’re not in the intensive care floor, so that’s good, right?

Hajime braced himself as he turned the doorknob around, and stepped inside at the same time as Nanami did.

Mitarai’s awake, the bags under his eyes seemingly having become bigger overnight. Next to him was Mioda, leaning on his shoulder and deeply asleep, spittle dribbling out from the corner of her mouth. There’s an expensive brand laptop in front of them blaring out some movie that from what Hajime could figure out was a Ghibli one, but Mitarai wasn’t watching anymore, just staring at Mioda with a fond look in his eyes.

“A–Ah, Hinata– _san_ , Nanami– _san_?” Mitarai said when he noticed them walking in, leaning over to pause the movie without disturbing Mioda’s position. “S–Sorry, I didn’t see you. What are you doing here?”

“Mioda– _san_ called me last night,” Nanami said as they crossed the room until they were right next to Mitarai’s hospital bed. “How are you?” she asked with a kind smile.

“I–I’m fine,” Mitarai replied, not looking up. “Really. I just fainted and everyone panicked. Sorry.”

“What for? It’s not as if that’s a lie,” Hajime said, letting some of his doubt drip into that last sentence. It’s not nice, but he did doubt it was just a simple fainting spell. Nothing was simple with this kid.

Nanami noticed what Hajime was doing, and it earned him a swift elbow in the ribs.

“I’m sorry,” Mitarai repeated. He looked even more bowed after what Hajime said. “You didn’t have to come, though.”

“That’s okay, we’re here now,” Nanami said, sitting down on the opposite side of the bed. “What are you watching?”

“It’s…uh, _Howl’s?”_ Mitarai mumbled. “I could switch it to another movie if you like?”

Hajime sighed before sitting beside them as well. “No, _Howl’s_ is fine. Which part are you in?”

Mitarai looked up again. “Um, the part where Sophie returns Howl’s heart? It’s almost at the end, sorry.”

“Eh, we can deal with it,” Hajime shrugged. “We can always repeat the whole thing when it’s over.”

Mitarai nodded slowly, reaching for the laptop again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rabbit is Monomi if you didn’t realize it. We’re almost near the end.


	16. Tacet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang goes to the beach for Nanami’s birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a dumbass who forgot to upload this chapter days ago.

The car radio was blaring out an old 80’s song as it competed with the buzzing of the cicadas outside. The AC unit beside it kept blowing nothing but hot air. Sunlight glared from all the car’s windows even though they’d already been blocked out with screens.

Hajime’s shirt kept sticking to his skin while he tried to fan himself with it, no thanks to his nonstop sweating. Why did he let Nanami talk him into going to the beach?

Kizakura– _sensei_ ’s tapping his free hand on the dashboard in time with the music while his other hand kept a tight grip on the steering wheel, seemingly oblivious that none of them was actually paying attention to his music. In the passenger’s seat, Nanami was smiling sheepishly at his antics.

Meanwhile, in the back seat, Hajime was staring out of the window trying to ignore the soft snoring of the boy beside him. Mitarai fell asleep almost as soon as the car left their house. Good thing his head was leaning on Mioda’s shoulder instead of Hajime’s. Mioda was currently also staring out of the window next to her listening to her own music with her headphones. The volume’s too loud that Hajime could hear it. Hajime shifted in his seat. He wished he brought _something_ to do during the car ride. Why didn’t Nanami tell him this trip was going to take too long?

 

Hajime caught the scent of the ocean before he did the sight of it. The brine in the air was overpowering. He shouldn’t be here. Why was he here?

_It’s the same beach, did Nanami know that? Sayaka, where was Sayaka?_

The waves kept crashing on the shore with a roar, and Hajime felt like covering his ears to block them out. Why won’t his hands stop shaking and start doing what he wanted?

“Hinata– _kun_?” Nanami said, running up to Hajime and snapping him out of his thoughts. “Is everything okay?”

Hajime bit the inside of his cheek, tasting blood. “Y–Yeah, I’m good. Why would you want to spend your birthday on the beach? It’s still spring, it’s going to be cold.”

“I like the sea. It’s peaceful, sometimes,” Nanami whispered, reaching out to reach for Hajime’s hand.

Hajime snatched it away.

“Sorry,” Nanami said as she retreated a few steps away from him.

“Don’t,” Hajime replied, maybe a bit too harshly.

“ _Oi!_ Chiaki– _chan_ , Hinata– _kun_! Stop flirting and come here already!” Kizakura– _sensei_ shouted as he waved at them from the shore.

Hajime blushed at the same time as Nanami did.

“Sorry about _Oyaji_ ,” Nanami said as she kept her eyes on the ground. “Shall we?”

Hajime nodded.

 

_It’s just water. You’re not gonna drown._

_Tou–san did though. And Sayaka._

Hajime stared at the water lapping at his bare feet, trying to take a step into the deeper water. It was cold, freezing even. Another step, and another, until the water reached his waist. Then he dunked his head into the water and disappeared into the waves.

Nanami’s right, the water _was_ peaceful, now that it was roaring within his ears instead, blocking out any other noise. It was clear, too. Hajime could open his eyes in it and make out details. He swam around the shore for a long time, surfacing only to catch his breath. When he did, Kizakura– _sensei_ was already calling everyone to lunch. Only then did Hajime notice that Mioda and Nanami were also swimming at the side of the shore opposite from him, squealing as they got splashed in the face by the waves or by each other.

 _Wow,_ who knew they looked like _that_ when wearing swimsuits. Hajime felt himself blush and shook his head free of thoughts.

They all got out of the water almost at the same time and coming to shore became an impromptu race. All three of them were out of breath from running and laughing at the same time when they reached the little cottage by the sea that they rented for the day. Kizakura– _sensei_ , standing by the grill that had _unagi_ still sizzling on it, was smiling and scratching his head at the sight of them. Mitarai looked up from his sketchpad at the noise, sitting in the shade and inexplicably still fully clothed.

“You didn’t swim?” Hajime asked as he dried his hair with the towel laid out on a nearby chair.

“Can’t swim, sorry,” Mitarai said quietly without looking at him.

“Ryouta– _chan_ can’t swim, Master,” Mioda said at the same time, leaping up to Mitarai to ruffle his hair.

Mitarai swatted at her hand idly with a wry smile.

“ _Stop_ calling me that,” Hajime told Mioda. To Mitarai he asked “You’ve never tried? I can teach you if you want.”

Mitarai shook his head. “No, thank you. It’s fine.”

“Eat,” Kizakura– _sensei_ said, placing the plate of _unagi_ on the table. “Before your parents come after me and say I didn’t take care of you.”

Mioda took a piece of _unagi_ and bit off the end of it. “ _Sensei_ , isn’t this a bit burned?”

“I _tried_ , okay?” Kizakura– _sensei_ said, taking a piece himself. “Chiaki– _chan_ , you appreciate it, right?”

Nanami smiled instead as she nibbled on her piece.

Hajime decided to judge for himself. Mioda’s right, the _unagi_ was burned on some places while undercooked on the inside. _Gods,_ who even cooks for his family if he’s the only adult around?

“What?” Kizakura– _sensei_ turned his head in Hajime’s direction so fast Hajime wondered how he didn’t get whiplash from it. “You hate it too, Hinata– _kun_?”

“It’s burnt,” Hajime said.

 _“You’re all ganging up on me!”_ Kizakura– _sensei_ whined. _“And after all I’ve done for you!”_

“It’s fine, _Oyaji_ , I still like it, anyway,” Nanami said. “Thank you.”

“Ah—” Kizakura– _sensei_ paused. “You’re welcome. Happy birthday, Chiaki– _chan_.”

 

“I thought you had siblings?” Hajime asked Nanami as he followed her around while she gathered seashells. “Don’t you want to spend your birthday with them instead?”

Nanami picked up a conch shell and placed it next to her ear. “It’s okay, we’re going out for dinner later. Besides, they don’t really like being around people much. Here,” Nanami said, placing the conch shell on Hajime’s ear. “Listen, you can hear the sea with it.”

Hajime’s hand brushed against Nanami’s as he held the shell in place. There’s a soft roaring from within, almost as if there was a smaller ocean compressed inside it. “You know,” Hajime said as he dropped the shell into the bucket. “It’s not really the sea you hear in it but the air inside it.”

Nanami nodded hesitantly. “You sound like Kyouko, you know. She’s as smart as you are. You’ll like each other.”

“Is that so?” Hajime asked. “Hey, do you know what’s up with those two?” he said, inclining his head to where Mioda was currently trying to wheedle a reaction from Mitarai who was steadfastly ignoring her. “I thought they were close?”

“They _are_.” Nanami took the bucket from Hajime and started walking again. “I told Mioda– _san_ to give Mitarai– _kun_ some space. It can’t be easy for either of them.”

“You sure this is a good idea, going to the beach?” Hajime said, taking back the bucket from her. “Final exams are in a few weeks,” he pointed out.

 _And I doubt you’ve actually started studying for it,_ he added mentally.

“We all need a break, don’t you think?” Nanami said as she stopped and sat down on the sandy beach to wait for the sun to set. “Don’t worry, it’s not gonna happen again next year.”

“What?”

Nanami shook her head. “Never mind. Let’s go watch the sunset.”

Hajime sat down beside her and stared at the horizon. Somewhere within the depths of it was his stepfather. Hajime imagined he was watching him, too, and smiled as the sky slowly turned into an orange hue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you want to know, Kizakura is blasting ABBA. As he should.


	17. Ritenuto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hajime tutors the gang for finals week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last chapter before August 15 so here, have some fluff.

Hajime stared at the house in front of him and blinked before checking his phone again for the directions Nanami gave him last night. Was this the right address? Why was their house so big?

But no, the car was there, parked in the open garage in full view. And the bricks of the house? They really _were_ red like she described them. There was a wall covered in soot now overrun with vines that Nanami told him he shouldn’t bring up around anyone. Hajime wondered why.

Hajime rang the doorbell and waited, lightly tapping his fingers next to the buzzer. Nanami popped out of the door smiling moments later, keys in hand.

“I hope you didn’t get lost,” Nanami said as she unlocked the gate. “Lots of people seem to do that that we seldom invite people over anymore.”

“Oh?” Hajime said as he followed her into the house. “Is it really that hard to find? It stands out _a lot_. Also, you didn’t tell me you’re rich.”

“Ah?” Nanami placed a hand beneath her chin. “We’re not. Really. The house just looks expensive.”

“Okay,” Hajime said as he took off his shoes, still not quite believing her. There were a few other pairs of shoes scattered along the side of the doorway, which meant… “They’re here already, aren’t they?” Hajime asked.

“Hm? Mioda– _san_ and Mitarai– _kun_?” Nanami said. “Yeah, they’re here early. I think Mitarai– _kun_ was scared they’d get lost again.”

“What do you mean _again_?” Hajime asked.

“Oh, he’s been here before,” Nanami said as she led the way to their living room. “He slept over once to help _Oyaji_ finish their class exhibit. You remember that game you played during the school festival?”

“Did you have to remind me?” Hajime muttered under his breath.

Mioda’s lively chatter could be heard from the doorway, but as usual, it was only one–sided. Hajime wondered if she’d ever get tired talking to a brick wall, because really, that’s what Mitarai was these days.

“—go after exams! If I helped you ask _Kaa–chan_ she’d give us permission!” Mioda said, her head looking down at Mitarai who was sitting down in a chair in front of her.

Mitarai looked like he was staring right through her.

“You always wanted to go there, right?” Mioda continued, now looking at him almost imploringly until she saw Nanami with Hajime enter the room. “Oh, hi, Master. And here I thought you weren’t coming.”

Hajime rolled his eyes. Gods _, if only._

Mitarai looked in their general direction and smiled slightly before looking away again.

“None of you would actually study if I wasn’t here,” Hajime muttered.

“Okay, that’s fair,” Mioda agreed _for once_.

 

 _“Ah! I don’t get this!”_ Mioda yelled, letting her head hit the table as she threw her pencil across it, the lead point breaking off as it hit the surface. “Why do we have to do this again?”

“Could you explain it again, Hinata– _kun_?” Nanami said with a smile that told Hajime she already gave up as well.

Hajime sighed, grabbing another sheet of paper from the pile that Kizakura– _sensei_ provided them with a while ago. “ _Oi, sensei!_ Aren’t you going to help me teach these guys?” Hajime shouted at Kizakura– _sensei_ who was currently on the other side of the library doing gods know what.

“Sorry, kid,” Kizakura– _sensei_ shouted back before yawning. “I’m not allowed to tutor students when it’s almost exam week. School’s afraid we might accidentally start leaking out the exam questions if we do.”

Mitarai woke up with a start beside Mioda, eyes blinking behind his glasses. “Sorry, what?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

Kizakura– _sensei_ snorted, stretching out his arms as he walked towards Hajime, clapping him on the shoulder. “Good luck, kid.” Yawning once more, he added, “Well, I’m off to bed. See you guys tomorrow.”

Nanami gave Kizakura– _sensei_ an uncertain wave as Mioda continued to hit her head on the table.

Before Hajime could get a word in, Kizakura– _sensei_ already waltzed away.

How has this become his life?

 

One more hour of nonstop math problems and frustrated groans from everyone later, they were all ready to go to bed, but Hajime was still refusing to let anyone leave unless they finished solving the last problem he gave them.

“Come on, just draw a circle and mark it the angle values,” Hajime muttered, holding his head with both of his hands. _“It’s. Not. That. Difficult.”_

“Uhm, I’m done, actually,” Mitarai said, handing over his worksheet to Hajime with his left hand as his right rubbed at his eyes. “Did— Did I get it right?” he asked with a yawn.

Hajime grabbed the sheet of paper before Mioda could snatch it and copy the answers off it, sighing as he gave Mitarai’s work a once–over.

 _Well._ He actually got the answer right.

Hajime cleared his throat. “It’s right. No offense, but why do you even need this review? You’ve been able to answer most of the questions I gave without my help.”

“Too many absences,” Mitarai and Mioda said at the same time.

_Oh._

“You guys are still awake?” Kizakura– _sensei_ suddenly entered the library again. “It’s getting late.”

Nanami squinted her eyes at her father. “In a bit, _Oyaji_. We’re already finishing up. Right, Hinata– _kun_?”

Hajime nodded.

“More importantly, why are _you_ still awake, _Oyaji_?” Nanami added. “I thought you were already sleeping?”

“What?” Kizakura– _sensei_ asked, rubbing at his eyes. They looked red. “I just wanted to see what you guys are up to,” he said, laughing as he moved to ruffle Nanami’s hair.

Nanami moved out of Kizakura– _sensei_ ’s hand’s way.

“ _Oi_ , Mitarai?” Kizakura– _sensei_ said, turning his attention to Mitarai.

“Y–Yes?” Mitarai squeaked.

“Here,” Kizakura– _sensei_ said before throwing Mitarai a pill bottle that he barely caught in his hands. “Yui– _chan_ will never let me hear the end of it if I let you forget to take your medicine.”

“T–Thanks?” Mitarai said, blinking dazedly.

“Don’t mention it,” Kizakura– _sensei_ said as he walked away again. “Wrap that up and go to sleep already. Wouldn’t want any of you to fall asleep in the middle of exams.”

Nanami continued to squint at Kizakura– _sensei_ until he disappeared from sight.

“That’s weird,” Mitarai mumbled as he struggled to unscrew the lid, making everyone turn to look in his direction.

“What is?” Nanami asked.

“Nothing, I thought I…” Mitarai trailed off, the lid giving way as he shook his head. “Never mind.”

What was that about?

 

Hajime cracked an eyelid open, squinting at the sunlight that shone directly on his eye. There’s something weighing down on both sides of his body, and his back was stiff from lying down on a thin futon. When he fully opened his eyes, the sight of limbs straying from the futon they came from and hitting the sides of his body greeted him.

To his right was Nanami, who somehow managed to move around in her sleep last night that she was now sleeping in a sideways direction, her head using Hajime’s torso as a pillow. On his left, Mitarai’s head was leaning on Hajime’s shoulder, arms sticking out as if he was trying to hug something that wasn’t there. His breathing’s too shallow to be healthy that Hajime almost did a double take. Why the fuck did he have to breathe like he’s going to stop at any minute?

Hajime craned his neck, careful not to disturb either of them while they still slept. Next to Mitarai was Mioda, who _was_ hugging him with both arms and her head nuzzling into Mitarai’s neck as they slept.

The door slowly creaked open, and Kizakura– _sensei_ peaked in, snorting as he saw the scene in the room.

“Help me,” Hajime mouthed _sotto voce_.

Kizakura– _sensei_ shrugged and closed the door instead, his howls of laughter ringing from the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I am not going to explain what just happened. You’ll have to figure it out for yourself.


	18. Lacrimoso

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hajime visits a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this all in one sitting. Turns out if I actually like what I’m writing, I can’t drop it until it’s finished.

Hajime thrummed his fingers against his thigh as he walked along the hallways of the hospital. The path felt familiar now, after almost a year of constantly being here to visit.

The smell, however, was a different matter entirely. The pervasive scent of bleach and antiseptic in the air still had the ability to make Hajime gag every time he was here.

Finally, Hajime stopped in front of the door. Should he knock first? Usually when they visited, Nanami took the lead, but Nanami wasn’t here with him right now, something about a family problem she had to fix.

Hajime opened the door and hoped he was doing the right thing.

“Ibu— _Oh_ ,” Mitarai sighed, letting his head sink back down onto his pillow as the brief smile Hajime saw when he opened the door faded away just as quickly. “H–Hi, Hinata– _san_. Sorry, I didn’t expect you.”

_Clearly._

“Mioda _still_ hasn’t visited yet?” Hajime asked as he pulled the plastic chair over next to the bed and sat down on it.

Mitarai shook his head. “N–No, I haven’t seen her since…” he trailed off.

_Maybe you shouldn’t have pushed her away, then._

“S–Sorry, I—” Mitarai tried to raise his head again as he turned to look at Hajime, tried being the keyword. “D–Do you know if I passed the final? The Miodas won’t tell me, a–and Kizakura– _sensei_ hasn’t visited yet, s–so…”

Hajime sighed, moving to help Mitarai sit up only to get waved away by him. “You’re still worrying about that? _You almost died in the middle of it!_ ” he pointed out, not entirely unkindly. The sirens of the ambulance that broke through the tense silence of the exam day still rang in Hajime’s head too loudly even now, nearly three months after the event.

Mitarai winced, and Hajime knew his words have found their mark. “I’m sorry,” Mitarai mumbled as he gave up on sitting upright.

“Next time maybe listen when people tell you to go to the infirmary instead of being stubborn and insisting on finishing the exam. You had everyone worried, you know,” Hajime muttered as he sat back down himself.

“I’m sorry,” Mitarai repeated, clenching and unclenching his hands as he avoided Hajime’s gaze and looked out the window. How many times has Mitarai had a conversation like this since he woke up from coma?

 _Too many_ , Hajime decided. He sighed again. “How have you been, anyway?” he asked, desperate for a change in topic.

“F–Fine, I guess,” Mitarai said. “How is… How is your summer break so far?”

“Sayaka’s been bossing me around all day,” Hajime complained. “I can’t wait until she goes on tour again so I’d be free of her.”

Mitarai smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Be nice to your sister, Hinata– _san_ ,” he said. “Did you ever name the rabbit she gave you?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s Usami now,” Hajime said, smiling sheepishly.

“You suck at creative names, Hinata– _san_ ,” Mitarai said, laughing quietly at Hajime’s expense.

“Don’t I know it,” Hajime replied as he joined in the laughter. It _was_ a terrible name, anyway. Creativity definitely was not his best trait.

“You should visit when you get out of here,” Hajime said. “You’d like her. Probably.”

Mitarai fell silent, listlessly looking out of the window again. Was it something he said?

“ _Oi_ , Mitarai?” Hajime said.

Mitarai continued to act like he didn’t hear Hajime. His eyes were still fixed outside the window, growing wider but focusing on nothing in particular as his breathing started to hitch.

 _Maybe he’s just zoning out_ , Hajime thought. “Mitarai?” he tried again.

Mitarai’s hyperventilating now, his right hand clenched into a fist and pressing on his chest, and showing no indication that he knew Hajime was still in the room with him.

Cold dread rushed through Hajime’s veins. What should he do? Should he call a nurse? He didn’t know what to do, he’s never seen Mitarai like _this_ before. Was this how Mioda felt every time? No wonder she can’t stand it anymore.

“Mitarai?” Hajime tried again, tapping Mitarai’s shoulder. It felt cold.

That did the trick. Mitarai gasped and whipped his head to look at Hajime, his eyes glassy and on the verge of tears.

Hajime stood up, chair clattering behind him, his mind made up on calling for a nurse, when Mitarai weakly pulled at Hajime’s sleeve and shook his head. “I–I’m f–fine,” he said, voice shaking.

Hajime stared at him in a mixture of worry and disbelief.

“R–Really,” Mitarai insisted.

Hajime sat down again as he watched Mitarai take in several deep breaths until it settled back into a slow, steady rhythm. He didn’t let go of Hajime’s sleeve.

It’s getting late, but Hajime couldn’t have been here that long. Dusk was fast approaching, and the sky was slowly turning from brilliant orange to indigo. He should probably go home soon.

The silence in the room was overbearing, Hajime can’t believe he missed Mioda’s chatter. He’s sure Mitarai did, too. The cicadas were chirping outside the window, but between Mitarai’s labored breathing and the constant beeping of machines nearby, Hajime could barely hear them.

Finally, Mitarai loosened his grip on Hajime’s sleeve, but alongside this, he turned his back to Hajime as well. “S–Sorry,” Mitarai mumbled.

“Don’t. Just get better soon,” Hajime said.

Mitarai’s laughter sounded hollow as he turned again to lie down on his back. “I’m never going to,” he said, his voice coming out just as hollow as his laughter.

“Don’t talk like that, of course you are,” Hajime countered.

“No,” Mitarai said again. “I— I’m going to die, Hinata– _san_. I don’t— I don’t think I’m going to last the month. I’ve known it for a while now. The doctors are all saying it, so it must be true.”

Hajime didn’t know what to say to that. How did _anyone_ respond to that?

All at once, Hajime could see it. The skeletal frame, the sunken eyes and paper white skin, all these things he didn't notice before, as the veil of denial lifted away and revealed the withered shell of a boy who wasn't meant to live this long.

“Hinata– _san_?” Mitarai asked. “C–could I ask you for a favor?”

“Yeah?” Hajime said. He felt numb.

“Can you— Can you take care of Ibuki for me?” Mitarai asked. “When— When I’m gone. She needs someone a–and I don’t— I don’t want her to be lonely.”

“Do it yourself,” Hajime said. “Get better and do it yourself.”

“I— I don’t want—” Mitarai seemed at a loss for words, his eyes blinking rapidly. “She’s my sister,” he said instead, pinning Hajime with a pleading look.

_She’s my sister._

Hajime understood then. Little sisters were annoying, true, but Hajime can’t imagine life without Sayaka. If he was in Mitarai’s position and he had the chance to ask someone to take care of Sayaka, Hajime would have taken it too.

Hajime nodded slowly. His eyes stung. “Hey,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, as he instinctively reached out for Mitarai’s hand but backed out at the last second. “I’ll do it, alright? But you can’t die. None of us want you to die.”

“I—” Mitarai said, hot tears spilling out from the corners of his eyes and staining his pillow. “I–I don’t want to die either! It’s not… It’s not fair! Why me? I’m scared! Please, someone help me!”

He’s crying, and Hajime didn’t know what to do, awkwardly sitting down and watching as Mitarai sobbed and said apology after apology to no one in particular, his face now hidden behind his hands. What _could_ Hajime do? Whenever Sayaka cried when they were children, Hajime would hold her in his arms and let her cry there until she quieted down on her own. But this wasn’t his _sister_ , this was a _friend_. Could he do that? Did Mitarai even think that they were really friends as well?

Hajime gently rubbed Mitarai’s shoulder instead, the one nearest to him. He hoped it was enough as he continued to think about the situation he found himself in. How long has Mitarai been keeping all this to himself? Did anyone else know? Did Mioda?

Eventually, Mitarai’s sobs turned into hitching breaths until that, too, smoothed down into his usual shallow breathing, though Hajime didn’t know how long it took. Right now he’s asleep, the worry lines on his face gone and in this state, he looked like any other kid their age. For his sake, Hajime hoped Mitarai was having peaceful dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this all started when I read _that_ chapter in over the dimension and thought about how the other side of that conversation would feel like. I hope you’re all suffering the same way I did when I first read it because hoo boy
> 
> Fun fact, there was supposed to be an Ibuki POV chapter between the previous chapter and this chapter that shows what exactly happened during finals, but I decided to scrap it because it felt too redundant.
> 
> Anyway, it’s August 15 next week and you all know what that means. Be prepared.


	19. Segue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today, August 15, was a normal sort of date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is August 15, my dudes.

The weather forecast this morning said that August 15th would be a normal day, with completely average temperatures for the season. They were wrong.

Ryouta can’t fault them for it, not really, but he still wished they got at least the temperature readings right so he could’ve bundled up before leaving the house. As it was, Ryouta was too cold to focus on the worksheets that Kizakura– _sensei_ had left for them to answer this morning.

Where _was_ Kizakura– _sensei_ anyway?

Ryouta sighed, rubbing at his eyes before staring out of the window. Maybe he should go get a new contacts prescription. It’s _Obon_ , and the cicadas outside were making a point of announcing the end of summer by chirping as loudly as they could. Did he light up incense on the altar at home this morning? Ryouta can’t remember. He should probably light some up later when he gets back before they have to leave for the festival in town. Why was he going with them? It wasn’t as if he was needed there. Oh, well.

Beside him, Ibuki was furiously fanning herself with a bunch of worksheets as she scribbled her answers on another sheet with her other hand. Ryouta had a small smile as he watched her. Being stuck in remedial class wasn’t so bad since she was here, too. Not that Ryouta was happy that Ibuki’s grades were slipping. She should really start spending more time studying than playing video games. Too much of it’s bad for her, anyway, with all those flashing lights and stuff. Good thing they haven’t managed to send her to the hospital yet, Ryouta doesn’t think the Miodas can handle it if both of them got sick at the same time.

Ibuki abruptly stopped scribbling and glared at the paper.

“Do you need help on that problem, Ibuki?” Ryouta asked, leaning a little to take a peek at what Ibuki’s glaring at and hissing when his side hurt as he did. _Ow._

Ibuki groaned, letting the bunch of worksheets she was using to fan herself smack her in the face. “I’ll get it eventually. Don’t _you_ have your own stuff to do?”

“Ibuki…”

 _“Look,”_ Ibuki said, loudly drawing in a breath. “Why don’t you just go home and leave me alone?”

Ryouta flinched. She didn’t mean it. She’s just stressed out from answering worksheets, that’s all.

“I—”

What _should_ he say?

But before Ryouta could think of anything to say, Ibuki continued to speak.

“It’s true!” she said. “You want to leave already! That’s why you kept on looking outside the minute you got finished with your worksheets.”

“It’s not—”

“You want to leave? _Fine!_ ” she continued, cutting him off. “Am I—” Ibuki’s breath hitched. “Am I really that boring to you?”

“N–No, I—”

_What has he done?_

Ryouta’s mind raced in tempo with his breathing. Why would Ibuki think like that? Did he do something wrong?

“I didn’t— I didn’t do anything wrong!” Ibuki wailed, furiously wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her blouse. _Oh gods, she’s crying. Why was she crying?_ _It’s the last thing he wanted to see._ “Why would you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you, Ibuki,” Ryouta mumbled. There’s a heaviness settling in his chest, making it hard for him to breathe. _Did he really make her feel like that? He didn’t mean to, he was just—_

Ibuki sniffed. “Ryouta– _chan_ ’s lying again. You haven’t been listening to me for months! Is Ibuki really so annoying to you?”

Ryouta said nothing, staring instead at his worksheets with blurry eyes. He accidentally omitted a negative symbol in one of the problems, he should redo it.

“I just— I just wanted to cheer you up!” Ibuki sobbed. “Was that so wrong? _Nee,_ Ryouta– _chan_. Why are you pushing me away?”

 _“I was just trying to protect you!”_ Ryouta shouted before immediately clapping both hands over his mouth.

_Oh gods. He didn’t— He didn’t mean to scream at her. He didn’t—_

_“See?”_ Ibuki yelled back at him as she stood up from her desk, the stack of worksheets fluttering down to the floor. “You _do_ hate me!”

 _“I don’t,”_ Ryouta said, chest heaving as his own frustrated tears started spilling out. “I just— I didn’t want you to get hurt every time I’m sick. I didn’t want— I wanted you to have other friends. You don’t need me anymore, Ibuki,” Ryouta offered dumbly, biting at his lip as he looked at Ibuki and tried to catch his breath.

“You can’t decide what I want for myself, Ryouta– _chan_ ,” Ibuki said, grabbing her bag and leaving.

“Ibuki—” Ryouta said before he stopped himself. _She just needed time to cool off. Better let her be,_ he thought as he watched her settle down on the hallway in front of their classroom, angrily putting on her headphones.

_How could he have messed this up so bad?_

Ryouta cried, hiding his face behind his arms crossed on his desk and not caring that his tears were soaking his worksheets and ruining the ink he wrote his answers in. He’d just have to rewrite them later, there’s still time. He needed to fix this first, before— before he—

How can he fix this? She’d never forgive him at this point. Why did he think this was such a good idea? How can he be _so stupid?_ He should have just told her the truth already. _Selfish._

And then he felt it, the familiar dull ache thrumming once again beneath his breastbone startling him into stopping his sobs. Ryouta doesn’t mind. He probably just needed to catch his breath again. It’s happened countless times before.

Ryouta sat up straight and took a shaky breath. Ibuki’s still outside, frowning and refusing to look at him. He doesn’t know if Ibuki could forgive him for this. Gods know _he_ couldn’t forgive himself for what he did. Why didn’t he listen when people told him telling her the truth would be better?

He needed to try anyway.

Ryouta pushed himself off his desk slowly.

And faltered, his legs too weak to support his weight.

_What was happening?_

He gasped, as a stab of pain radiated from his chest and through the rest of his body.

_Oh._

Ryouta tried to keep himself upright, his arms leaning heavily on his desk, but even they were beginning to give out, too.

_Not now, please not now—_

He fell forward, the world spinning out around him.

 _Get up, you idiot. You_ have _to tell her. You have to get up._

Ryouta raised his head, the action making him even more lightheaded. Ibuki’s _right there._ He needed to reach her, he needed to tell her—

_I’m sorry_ _._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are finally at the closing act. Next chapter is an Ibuki chapter.


	20. Affrettando

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ibuki waits. It’s the least she could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t ghosting you guys, I was sick.

The waiting room seemed to be buzzing with much more noise than usual. Ibuki hated it, hated how every noise she heard made her jumpy, hated how her stomach turned each time someone from the hospital staff looked like they were about to approach, hated that her utter stupidity might have cost her her best friend’s life.

What was she thinking, exploding on him like that? He can’t handle it, his health was still too frail. And didn’t Chiaki– _chan_ already told her to give him some space?

_Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

“You’re thinking too much, Ibuki– _chan_ ,” Kizakura– _sensei_ said beside her, interrupting Ibuki’s train of thought.

“I—” Ibuki looked up at Kizakura– _sensei_ , eyes wide and frustratingly blurry. “ _S–Sensei_ , I— Do you— Is Ryouta– _chan_ going to be okay? Is he going to wake up?”

 _Gods_ , she should’ve realized something was wrong. Ryouta– _chan_ _always_ apologizes immediately, whether or not he was actually at fault. He can’t help it, he just does. She should’ve known, _she should’ve looked up_. He called after her when she left the room, was he asking for her help then? She can’t— Was he still breathing when Ibuki found him?

Ibuki started sobbing again.

Kizakura– _sensei_ pulled Ibuki close, letting her bawl her eyes out on his shoulder. “Shh, don’t cry, Ibuki– _chan_. He’s made it this far,” Kizakura– _sensei_ said, squeezing Ibuki’s shoulder. “He’s going to be fine, I’m sure of it.”

 

Ibuki wondered, as the minutes seemed to stretch into an eternity, if her parents ever felt the same way she did now each time either of them were rushed to the hospital. She can’t keep still. Every second that ticked away in the large wall clock of the waiting room felt like she was slipping further into despair, just as it felt like Ryouta– _chan_ was slipping further and further away from her. Ibuki hated being alone for this. She just wanted her parents there with her.

“Sorry I fell asleep, Ibuki– _chan_ ,” Kizakura– _sensei_ said, suddenly showing up from whatever hallway he came from and handed Ibuki a still steaming cup while he stifled a yawn. “Not gonna happen again, I bought coffee from the vending machine already.”

“It’s okay, _sensei_ ,” Ibuki said, wiping her face with her sleeve before taking the cup.

Kizakura– _sensei_ ’s already overworked from the papers that Hope’s Peak kept on dumping on him, and yet he’s here waiting for news with her because Ibuki just couldn’t keep her mouth shut and had to stress out her best friend enough to trigger an attack. Ibuki’s really a terrible person, isn’t she?

Her tears dripped into the cup, dissolving into the greenish liquid inside.

A memory sparked back into Ibuki’s mind. Ryouta face–down on the floor and completely still. Ibuki running up to him, shaking him, trying to wake him up. Crying, her tears landing on Ryouta’s face, unnervingly peaceful, as his eyes continued to remain shut.

Kizakura– _sensei_ nudged the cup closer to her. “Drink the tea. It’ll make you feel better. I brewed it myself,” he said with a wink.

“I— Thank you, _sensei_ ,” Ibuki said, nodding uncertainly.

Ibuki took a sip and instantly gagged.

 _“Ew,”_ Ibuki said, sticking her tongue out. “ _Sensei_ , what’s _this_ supposed to be?”

“Tea?” Kizakura– _sensei_ replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the entire universe.

 _“It’s too sweet,”_ Ibuki complained, even though she still continued to drink it anyway. The warmth from it was nice.

 _Ryouta–_ chan _liked everything too sweet._

Ibuki set the cup down.

“Ibuki?” Kizakura– _sensei_ asked, frowning at her.

Ibuki sighed and shook her head.

Ryouta– _chan_ ’s doctor emerged from where the emergency room was, a grim expression on his face. Ibuki wanted to curl up into a ball at the sight of it. She looked up at Kizakura– _sensei_ instead, who wordlessly nodded at her and left her side to talk to the doctor.

Ibuki stared on as they talked. They’re too far for her to hear what they were saying, and she can’t read lips either. Finally, after talking for an agonizingly long time, Kizakura– _sensei_ bowed his head as the doctor left.

Ibuki stood up without realizing it at first, a bit off–balance, and met Kizakura– _sensei_ halfway.

“ _Sensei_ , Ryouta– _chan_ —”

Kizakura– _sensei_ sighed, and Ibuki was about to start crying again when he suddenly beamed at her instead.

“He’s fine, Ibuki,” Kizakura– _sensei_ said, patting Ibuki’s head. “He’s still unconscious right now but he’s okay. They’re taking him to the ICU now.”

Ibuki breathed a sigh of relief.

He’s okay.

 _Ryouta–_ chan _’s okay._

“Hey, do you have your phone with you? I left mine in the faculty office so I haven’t called your parents yet,” Kizakura– _sensei_ said, running his hand from his forehead through his hair.

“I—” Ibuki hesitated, fumbling with her pockets. “I think I left it in the classroom. Sorry, _Sensei_.”

“Understandable.” Kizakura– _sensei_ stretched his arms over his head until a joint popped and he winced. “We left his stuff in there too, didn’t we? I’d go get them but I’d rather be here when…”

“I’ll get them,” Ibuki said suddenly. She didn’t want to be here anymore. She needed to get away. She didn’t really want to see him right now, didn’t want to remember how she did nothing to help while he was suffering, didn’t want to feel so helpless.

_And maybe he didn’t want to see her anymore either._

“You sure about that Ibuki?” Kizakura– _sensei_ asked. “I’m not sure about letting you go by yourself, it’s getting late.”

“I’ll be fine, _sensei_ ,” Ibuki replied, shaking her head. “Just… please don’t leave Ryouta– _chan_ alone,” she added as she started to walk towards the exit.

“Ibuki—” Kizakura– _sensei_ called.

 _“Sensei?”_ Ibuki asked, looking back before the automatic doors opened.

“Just…” Kizakura– _sensei_ hesitated. “Be careful.”

“I will,” Ibuki said, waving at him.

 

It was still too hot.

Ibuki didn’t really know what she expected, it _was_ summer after all. Just that she hoped for a cool breeze at least, to dry off her blouse which by now was sticking to her skin covered in sweat.

The cicadas were being noisy again. They always are, especially whenever Ibuki needed to think. The school now felt even emptier than when they left it a while ago, every step Ibuki took echoing through the corridors. When combined with the cicadas, it’s just freaky. Ibuki put on her headphones again, trying to block out the noise.

“Mioda– _san_! Why are you here this late?”

Ibuki startled at the voice, removing her headphones again while she turned to see who it is.

Chiaki– _chan_ was standing behind her, wearing a hoodie over their school uniform, her head slightly tilted as she stared at Ibuki with concern.

“Remedial classes,” Ibuki shrugged, trying to sound neutral. “You?”

Chiaki– _chan_ laughed nervously before answering. “Same thing. But you didn’t answer the question. Aren’t classes over for today? You’re not with Mitarai– _san_?”

Ibuki winced. “About that… He’s had an attack again. I’m just here to pick up our stuff.”

 _“Oh,”_ Chiaki– _chan_ said. “Is he okay? I probably shouldn’t keep you for too long.”

“He’s fine. Kizakura– _sensei_ ’s there with him,” Ibuki sighed. “Besides, I’d just be in the way if I was there…”

“ _Oyaji_ ’s there?” Chiaki– _chan_ demanded, taking Ibuki by surprise.

“Y–Yeah… Why?”

“I see,” Chiaki– _chan_ mumbled. There was something unreadable in her eyes now.

“I— I gotta go, Chiaki– _chan_ ,” Ibuki said, trying to change the topic. “See you later.”

Chiaki– _chan_ nodded, but Ibuki had an inkling that she didn’t fully hear what she said.

 

Her stuff’s still in the hallway in front of the classroom, and Ibuki breathed a sigh of relief. Honestly, she expected it to be stolen by now.

The door loomed in front of her as she slung her bag over her shoulder. How many times has she walked through that door, sleeping through class and getting exasperated by their easy–going teacher, times saved only because she wasn’t alone in class? Will those days ever return for her? Ibuki doubted they will, Ryouta– _chan_ hated her now.

Ibuki opened the door.

“Morning, Ibuki.”

Ibuki blinked. For a second, she thought she heard Ryouta– _chan_ , sitting on his desk and smiling at her like he did every day. But his desk was empty, save for his bag and the worksheets he was answering this morning. Ibuki gathered them up and opened his bag to put them inside. He’d want them when he woke up. He brought his sketchpad today, and even though Ibuki was tempted to open it, she didn’t. He’d show his sketches to her if he wanted to.

Ibuki ran out the door.

But before she even managed to step into the hallway, she fell over.

The walls seemed to be closing in on her, dark spots slowly blacking out her vision as her entire body tensed.

 _But this hasn’t happened to her in years, why was this happening_ now _?_

Ibuki gasped, trying to scream for help, but she couldn’t breathe anymore.

She just wanted to see him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s almost done. Also, Ryou’s birthday is tomorrow so stay tuned, probably.


	21. Cabaletta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The curtains draw to a close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your occasional reminder that this fic is tagged Non–Linear Narrative.

Ryouta woke up gradually. The twitch of a finger, a nearby monotonous beeping, eyes fluttering into a hazy vision of white, and Ryouta was awake.

There’s no one else here. But where was here? Where’s Ibuki?

Ryouta blinked again, slowly raising a hand to shield his eyes against the harsh light even as a twinge of pain surged through that same arm. The world came into a blurry focus then, as the pain forced him to become fully awake. Where were his glasses?

A tall, dark figure loomed over his bed, seemingly materializing out of nowhere.

 _Kizakura–_ sensei _?_

What was it? Why was Kizakura– _sensei_ here?

Oh, that’s right, it was a school day today. Then, did he collapse in class again? But why can’t he remember anything?

“Oh, you’re awake,” Kizakura– _sensei_ said, smiling with all his teeth, probably to reassure him. But for some reason, that same smile did the exact opposite, making Ryouta feel more uneasy.

“What—” Ryouta rasped. His chest felt so heavy as he tried to take in another deep breath. “What happened, _sensei_?”

“You don’t remember?” Kizakura– _sensei_ asked. Even the tone of his voice was off.

 _No,_ Ryouta meant to say, but the lack of enough air made the words die on his throat.

“You’ve been out for a while. Way too long. In fact,” Kizakura– _sensei_ said, placing his fingers on his lips. “I was beginning to think I’d have to dirty my hands this time around.”

_What—_

“Where is Ibuki?” Ryouta asked. Even his eyelids were getting heavier, threatening to completely shut close with each blink.

 _Where was she? She always worried over him too much that she’s always there when he wakes up. Why wasn’t she here_ now _? Where was she?_

“So you really _don’t_ remember, huh.” _Was that a giggle?_ “You fought with her, you know. Quite the fight, too, I’d imagine.”

“I—”

Slowly, the memories came back, but not all of them, like assembling a jigsaw puzzle with missing parts. What did he do? Why was Ibuki shouting at him?

“She hates you, you know,” Kizakura– _sensei_ said. “She walked out on you. She doesn’t care. She’s not coming.”

_She hates you._

That single sentence, spoken in a voice so cold and uncaring that Ryouta never thought he’d ever associate it with his teacher, carved out a hole through Ryouta’s heart that hurt much worse than any physical hole it already had.

And then he remembered, as his heart throbbed painfully against his chest, the final piece of the puzzle. He just can’t do anything right, can he? She _does_ hate him. Why wouldn’t she? He’d pushed her away. All he ever did was make everyone needlessly worried about him. He never cared how people felt, never cared if he’d already hurt them. He was just so _selfish_.

“So wouldn’t it be better to just die?” said a voice that sounded like Kizakura– _sensei_.

Maybe he should just die. He’s made enough trouble for everyone.

Ryouta blinked rapidly, as a sharp pain shot through his chest and spread all throughout. Everything hurt, his synapses kept on firing away rapidly, warning him that this was another attack. Tears pricked at his eyelids as the pain in his chest grew worse with every beat his heart struggled to make. It was beating so fast, faster than Ryouta ever felt it do. It hurt him even to breathe, his lungs stubbornly refusing to take in any more of the hissing oxygen. Why not, he was a waste of air anyway. Dark spots danced around in his vision.

Mitarai Ryouta was, _finally_ , dying.

 _“Sensei…”_ Ryouta said with a whimper. He can’t keep his eyes open for much longer. Kizakura– _sensei_ shouldn’t be here to see this, he should go watch over Ibuki instead, maybe tell her how much Ryouta was sorry. Kizakura– _sensei_ ’s lost so much already, he doesn’t need to see Ryouta die.

But Kizakura– _sensei_ only stepped forward, smiling as he cupped Ryouta’s chin with his hand and tilted his head to look him in the eye. Why was Kizakura– _sensei_ still smiling like that? Couldn’t he see Ryouta was in pain?

Had his eyes always been this red color?

“You need to die now, you know,” Kizakura– _sensei_ told him, but Ryouta might well have just imagined it. “We’re already going off–schedule.”

Another sharp pain stabbed through Ryouta’s heart, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he was already so out of breath, he might have screamed.

Two fingers gently stroked Ryouta’s cheeks as his tears poured out. “You’re dying,” Kizakura– _sensei_ said, giggling. “You should see your face. Ah, such a wonderful expression. So full of despair!”

Ryouta squirmed under the intense stare of those red eyes. It was just his fate, that the last dream his mind produced as his frail body finally shut down was a nightmare.

If only he was stronger.

“Oh, but this isn’t a nightmare,” Kizakura– _sensei_ said, as if sensing Ryouta’s thoughts. “This is real. Very real. By the way,” he giggled. “That friend of yours? Ibuki? She’s probably already dead by now,” he added like it was nothing but an afterthought.

_No!_

_It can’t—_

_Ibuki—!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry.


	22. Requiem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like everything else, there is an aftermath to this story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your occasional reminder that this fic is tagged Suicide.

August sixteenth. The birds were singing outside Hajime’s window, same as usual. As if nothing happened the day before.

_How did it come to this?_

Hajime still has his phone turned off. He almost threw the thing away last night, when it started ringing with calls from his classmates and didn’t stop.

_Please just leave him alone. Please._

He doesn’t even remember how he got home. Just her fall, constantly looping in his mind. The sickening crunch when she hit the ground. The blood, _there was_ _so much blood._

Hajime shut his eyes again and concentrated on breathing instead.

It’s her funeral today. Hajime guessed that her family probably just wanted to get it over with. He can’t imagine what her siblings must be going through. _Hell_ , what was _Kizakura–_ sensei going through? The man’s lost enough already.

_“I’m going to take care of everything soon. Don’t worry.”_

Should he go? Did he have a right to go? He could have stopped her. He _should’ve_ stopped her.

Hajime grunted, pushing himself off the bed before Sayaka knocked on his door again and asked about him.

 

Hajime’s sitting at the back, watching everyone else watch him. At least no one’s attempted to talk to him. For now.

Kizakura– _sensei_ ’s at the very front, eyes half–lidded and mumbling things under his breath that Hajime wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He doesn’t look like he slept a wink last night, and with good reason. Poor man. None of his other children were in sight. Come to think of it, Hajime has never even _seen_ any of her siblings before, the only proof of their existence being their rooms with their names hung up on the doors which Hajime had passed through whenever he visited. Maybe they’re in those rooms right now, doing what Hajime could not by locking themselves away from the outside world and mourning.

Soon people left, one by one. Some of their classmates cast a sideways glance at Hajime, full of pity, as they passed him by. Hajime hated those glances. Why would they pity him? This was all his fault.

Even Kizakura– _sensei_ left eventually, and Hajime was alone. Nanami’s portrait stared at him still, a small smile on her lips as if she had just completed a new game or shared an inside joke with him.

Hajime walked towards the coffin.

Maybe he just imagined it, the stress and the strain of sudden loss conjuring up images in his mind that weren’t really there, but _she_ was there. _Nanami_ was there, standing in front of her own coffin, as bloodied as when she landed on the ground several feet in front of him, wearing an expression that had never belonged to her face before.

“Hinata– _kun_ ,” Nanami spoke. Her voice gave Hajime chills, so cold it sounded.

“Nanami, I—” Hajime started, but the words died in his throat before he could get them out.

“Why didn’t you do anything, Hinata– _kun_?” Nanami asked, a brittle smile playing on her lips. “Why didn’t you stop it? It’s all your fault, Hinata– _kun_.”

It’s all—

It’s all _his_ fault.

Nanami was still staring at him, her smile slowly turning into a sneer. Hajime’s eyes widened as he tried to tear them away from her, but Nanami held her gaze.

Hajime backed away slowly, finally managing to blink and break the spell. Nanami disappeared the moment he did so.

Hajime ran out, breathing heavily as he almost stumbled, not looking back until he was far out of sight of the house.

 

It’s way too sunny for a funeral. Let alone two.

Hajime has pulled at his collar away from his neck several times now, but it kept on sticking to his skin anyway. Summer’s already over, why hasn’t the heat left?

It’s been a week, but she still plagued Hajime’s thoughts. If he closed his eyes, he could still see her, blood dripping from the wounds on her head as she stared reproachfully at him. Was it real? Did Hajime even want to know?

Hajime looked around. There were no ghosts here, not in this funeral. No specters looming around accusingly, just regrets and the shadow of grief.

In a corner of the funeral home, Mioda’s parents, leaning heavily onto each other and dressed in deepest mourning, were talking to Kizakura– _sensei_ who was bowing so low to them he might as well topple over and hit his head on the ground. One of Kizakura– _sensei_ ’s hands was bound in gauze. Strange. It wasn’t like that last week, from what Hajime could remember.

Farther away from them, there’s a man sitting on a bench with a far–off look in his eyes. Glasses askew and sporting a black eye, the man kept glancing at the portraits before hastily looking away again as if burned.

 _Mitarai’s father_ , Hajime realized. They don’t look a thing alike, the dark hair and dark eyes a sharp contrast to his friend’s (Friend? Hajime hoped Mitarai thought of him as one.) lighter coloring. The constant nervousness and panic, however, was a direct echo of Mitarai’s, which only served to remind Hajime just what he’d lost.

There were barely any people here. Hajime expected Mitarai to not have that many friends, but _Mioda_? Brash, noisy Mioda who made everyone gravitate toward her with her eternal cheerfulness? Saying that it was surprising to Hajime would have been a massive understatement.

Hajime’s gaze returned to the two coffins lying side by side at the front and recalled suddenly, how, when visiting the hospital once, Mitarai mentioned how he couldn’t remember a time when Mioda wasn’t somewhere nearby. Mioda and Mitarai, _contra mundum_. Even in death, they were still right next to each other.

 

A week later, classes opened again. They’ve cleaned up all the blood and gore at the entrance of the school. Nowhere could Hajime detect any traces of what had happened two weeks previously. The new students walking in through the gates had no idea.

Through the whispers of some of the students and the faculty, Hajime heard that Kizakura– _sensei_ would be taking the rest of the year off from teaching. The headmaster granted the leave easily, since Kizakura– _sensei_ didn’t have a homeroom class to teach, not anymore. They also said that the special education classroom would return to being what it was previously, a storage room for the school’s scientific equipment.

When Hajime got to his classroom, he found a vase of yellow chrysanthemums on Nanami’s desk.

Hajime felt sick.

Lunch was a terrible affair. For the first time since meeting her in middle school, Hajime ate alone once again. Kuzuryuu, _both_ Kuzuryuus, tried to invite him to join their lunch group but Hajime refused. It seemed like a great betrayal to his friends to so quickly blend into another group as if they had never existed.

A month later, Hajime dropped out of Hope’s Peak Academy.

 

Hajime’s not a shut–in. _He’s not._ He just doesn’t feel like going outside anymore. Nowadays he spent all his time trawling through internet forums, picking fights.

He dreamt of her again last night, waiting for him and smiling sadly as she stood at the edge of the rooftop. When he stepped forward to approach her, she’s gone and the dream dissolved away. It always did.

Hajime glanced at the calendar. It’s August 15th. It’s been two years today.

Hajime brushed away a tangle of his hair as he pushed himself off the bed. Sayaka’s been bugging him to get a haircut for a while now, but why bother? It’s just going to keep growing longer.

Miki’s obnoxious face greeted him as he booted up his laptop. Hajime still doesn’t know what she is, even if she insisted she was a virus. She kept on saying she’s worried about him, but what does she know? It’s not like she’s even alive.

Hinata Hajime was eighteen years old, and all he’s ever been was as a rotten human being.

Miki’s about to spout some nonsense again, but this time Hajime’s had enough of her shrill, annoying voice. He finally, _finally_ got rid of her.

August 15th. It seemed like a good day to die. After all, everyone he’s ever cared about died on the same day.

Hajime grabbed the scissors from the drawer, raising them over his throat.

 
    
    
      **RESTART GAME? >_
      **
    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I’m almost done with this story. Also, if you want an idea of what Ryouta’s dad looks like, go watch Miss Sherlock. I basically wrote him as Reimon.


	23. Reprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let’s try this again.

Hajime found her sitting on the railing of the school rooftop, waiting for him. She’s always waiting.

She’s in their school uniform, wearing her cat hoodie underneath the Hope’s Peak blazer. The Gala Omega hairclip her siblings gave her kept stray wisps of her hair in place. She’s frowning, all of her concentration focused on the console in her hands.

When she looked up and saw Hajime, she smiled. And like every other time Hajime has had this dream, it ended here, at the moment her smile seemed to burn itself into his memory.

The rooftop vanished and Hajime’s eyes snapped open. Hajime breathed heavily as he waited for his racing heart to slow down. His eyes flitted to the calendar across his room.

Today was August 14th. Tomorrow, it would have been two years.

 

It’s not that Hajime meant to be a shut–in, not really. He was only supposed to take a few months off school, that’s all. But after a year he realized, what’s the point in going back? All his friends were dead and the rest of his acquaintances were already a year ahead of him.

So now Hajime spent his time trawling the web, arguing in forums, and maybe taking some online classes that he’d quit within a week anyway.

Ugh. Yeah. Classes. He had one in a bit. Seriously, what was the point of online classes if it still had a schedule? Weren’t they supposed to be flexible? Hajime got out of bed, grumbling as he walked towards his desk.

The picture frame in the corner was tilting slightly. It was a photo of the four of them on the beach, before everything went south. If only he could go back to that time. Hajime went over to fix the frame, brushing off some of the dust that formed a thin film on the surface of the glass. Maybe he should visit the cemetery tomorrow.

His laptop booted up and as usual, Miki’s annoying face showed up as soon as Hajime finished typing his password. He still can’t figure out what she is, even though she said she’s a virus, but then she also said she’s a _she_ , which… what kind of virus has pronouns?

Hajime supposed he should thank her and Sayaka for constantly trying to cheer him up. They even managed to convince him to get a haircut during that time he stopped caring about his appearance, or everything else, really. Sometimes Hajime thought Miki’s arrival was some sort of intervention. Why else end up in his computer the day he stopped going to Hope’s Peak?

Miki was about to start on her usual annoying chatter again, so before she could say anything and shatter Hajime’s eardrums for good, Hajime dragged her out of the screen with the cursor, earning him a screech as she tried to protest. Okay, maybe he deserved that. For a split second, the screeching sounded almost familiar.

Hajime shook his head. After all, it’s been two years. He needed to move on. Stranger things have happened during _Obon_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I can’t believe I actually finished a long fic _for once_ either. But as you can see, this is part of a series. The next fic would be out soon, at least hopefully not after six months.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I have a tumblr right [here](http://ranichi17.tumblr.com/).


End file.
